Cooking with Gas
by WinJennster
Summary: Chef Castiel Novak is on top of the world, with a top rated cooking show and restaurant. He's rich, famous, and gorgeous, but there's still something missing. Then his producer decides to throw a contest, and the lucky winner will have Castiel come to their home to cook a meal for them and their loved one. The only thing is, Castiel never expected to fall for the winner. Destiel AU
1. Prep

He had it good. Hell, he had it better than good, he had _everything._

His own line of cookware at Kohl's, the chef's table at every restaurant in town, his name on Tribeca's best steakhouse, and a loft apartment overlooking Central Park.

He grilled burgers with Bobby Flay on the man's roof top deck, sipped cocktails with Ina Garten on her perfect Long Island patio, made the ladies on Good Morning America laugh with his self-deprecating charm, flew down to Savannah to make shrimp and grits with Paula Deen, and had just gotten back from eating his way through New Orleans with Emeril himself.

He drove a top of the line Mercedes SL63, wore Armani to premieres and restaurant openings, and enjoyed the success of having the number one rated show on Food Network.

But, despite it all, the one thing he didn't have, and couldn't seem to find, left him cold and alone in his very expensive bed.

He was rich, gorgeous, and on top of the world, but there was still something missing.

_Win a day with James Beard Award Winner Castiel Novak, host of Food Network's __A Little Taste of Heaven __and Owner of Tribeca's Blue Heaven Steakhouse. Chef Novak will come to your home, and assist you in shopping for and preparing a romantic meal for two. Win a chance to be a guest on __A Little Taste of Heaven__, and surprise your loved one with a special meal cooked just for them by you and Chef Novak._

"It's a brilliant idea, Cassie, and you're doing it. Everything's already set, there will be no more arguments on this."

Castiel Novak says nothing, just continues staring out the window of the over-large black SUV, eyes hidden by Ray Ban sunglasses. He shifts uncomfortably in the seat, feeling the burn of Balthazar's eyes on his neck.

"It's ridiculous, and a publicity stunt. I'm supposed to teach fine dining to some Midwestern redneck in seven hours? Do I even have to mention all the ways this could go wrong?"

"It will be fine. The winner consented to a full background check, we've been to his house, and he's a charming young man. I think you'll enjoy yourself. Besides darling, I'm your producer, and what I say goes."

Castiel sighs, and slumps down in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest, knowing all too well that he looks like a petulant child.

"Does our redneck have a name?"

Balthazar thumbs through the leather attaché case on his lap, pulling out a manila folder.

"Here's a dossier for you. His name's Dean, and I'll tell you Cassie, he's very easy on the eyes."

Castiel takes the folder and flips it open. On the first page is a brief bio. Dean Winchester, thirty-four years old, mechanic, resides in Lawrence, Kansas. The picture attached confirms what Balthazar had said, Dean _is_ easy on the eyes. Light brown hair, fair skin covered in freckles, plush full lips, but what really catches Castiel's attention is his eyes. Longest lashes he'd ever seen, and so green, like fresh grass or shamrocks, he couldn't decide, but Castiel had never seen greener.

"I still think this is a terrible idea."

"Well, think it all you want. We're on our way to JFK, and you're pretty well screwed at this point." Balthazar grins over at him. "Is it really that bad? Honestly, Cassie, you'd think we were torturing you."

"Is that not what this is? Torture? Punishment of some kind?"

"Really, Cassie, you think the whole world's out to get you. It's just publicity, a stunt for the show. Nothing else. You're not being punished for god's sake." Balthazar's phone chimes, and he's distracted by emails the rest of the way to the airport, leaving Castiel to stare out the window and wonder how the hell he let himself get sucked into this mess.

* * *

Dean Winchester sighs as he surveys the first floor of his little house.

Why the hell had he waited until the night before to start cleaning? Not that his house was messy, but there was stuff everywhere. He honestly didn't even know where to start, and the production crew would be here by 7:00 am the next day to start setting up.

He swallows down his nervousness, and the butterflies that had been flitting around his stomach since his interview with the production staff last week. This was really happening. He was really going to get to meet his idol.

Dean had watched Chef Novak's show from the very first episode, impressed with the way the man made delicious food look so incredibly easy. He had all of Chef Novak's cookbooks lined up on the shelf over his sink. He'd made many of the recipes in the books, the pages covered with splattered foodstuffs.

So when the contest had been announced, Dean had gotten online right away and put his name in. He'd lost count of how many times he'd put it in since that first one.

Still, when Balthazar Roche had called him and congratulated him, he still hadn't believed it. It didn't really sink in until the affable Englishman and his staff had rolled up last week, to meet him and survey his house.

Even now, the night before, Dean's still having trouble believing this is really going to happen. He wants it to happen, more than anything, but Dean's used to not having good things happen to him. He's used to getting the short end of the stick.

Maybe cleaning is a waste of time, maybe they really aren't coming.

Moving into his kitchen, intent on finding his half full bottle of Jack, he spies the envelope with the details of his prize and is quickly reminded that yes, this _is_ happening.

Grabbing a broom and dustpan, he gets to work.

Tomorrow is one hell of a big day.

* * *

Bright and early the next morning, a caravan of black SUVs pull up in front of a small arts and crafts style home just around the corner from Kansas University.

It's a quaint home, painted a soft moss green, white tapered pillars supporting the front porch roof, weathered cedar shingles on the ridge. There are well maintained gardens at the base of the porch, perfectly shaped shrubs and pansies artfully arranged.

But what catches Castiel's eye is the black beast in the driveway. It's a 1967 Chevrolet Impala, and he's never seen one in better condition. She sparkles from head to toe, every inch of her gleaming and shiny. It's April too, there's pollen everywhere, but nowhere on this beauty of an automobile, which suggests her owner was up before the dawn to wash her.

Castiel loves classic cars. He's currently driving a 2013 SL63, but someday, he hopes to have a second residence, one with a huge garage, where he can house and maintain his own fleet of classics. The Impala in the driveway would be a great first addition.

Maybe he'll make an offer.

Pulling himself out of the vehicle, Castiel stretches his arms over his head and yawns. They had all stayed in Kansas City last night, leaving at 6:00 am to make the drive to Lawrence. Castiel had not slept well, and was dreading spending the day with his new "friend". He'd bitched over drinks the night before, complaining louder and louder the drunker he got. Balthazar finally dragged him off to his room and told him to sleep it off.

The sun's murder on his eyes that morning, his dark Ray Bans doing nothing to prevent the sharp spikes of pain it's causing.

* * *

Which is why, when Dean finally meets him, he's a little…confused.

He expected something different, he expected the guy he knows from TV.

The man standing on his porch in a ratty AC/DC shirt, threadbare grey hoodie, ripped jeans, and scuffed cowboy boots looks nothing like the stylish and put together chef he knows. His eyes are obscured by dark sunglasses, and his hair makes him look like he had a _very_ busy night.

He shuffles impatiently on the porch while Balthazar makes introductions, and looks everywhere except at Dean, who's staring at him, all while holding the door open. Dean smiles and shakes the offered hands. Castiel stands near the door, staring off into space like the day is too much for him.

Dean shakes his head. What was this guy's deal? He's always seemed so nice and downright charming in his interviews, and on the show, but right now, Dean's getting a distinct "don't want to be here vibe" from the guy.

"So, here's how it's going to go. You two will head to the local store and pick up the items you need, Cassie giving you shopping advice on what to choose. You'll have a small crew with you, a camera and sound guy, and Sarah Blake, our star P.A. Once you get back, we'll have the lights and sound ready in your kitchen, and you and our star here will get started."

"Ok," Dean says quietly. He turns to Castiel. "Would you like to see the kitchen?"

Castiel stretches and looks at spot on the wall above Dean's head. He hasn't removed his glasses yet, and has an air of being bored with the whole thing.

"I'll give you thirty grand for the Impala."

"Wait, what?"

"The Impala. In the driveway. Give you thirty for her."

"Um. She's not…no, she's not for sale." Dean feels like he should be flattered, after all, his baby is beautiful, but this is the first thing Novak has said to him directly, and it rubs Dean the wrong way.

"Thirty-five."

Now he's getting angry. "No. Not for sale."

"Oh come on, everything has a price. Name yours."

* * *

"No. Some things are priceless and my baby? Is. Not. For. Sale." Dean growls.

Castiel is surprised at the ferocity in the man's voice, and he finally takes off his shades and looks at Dean. Really looks at him.

The snapshot in the dossier didn't do him justice.

Dean is gorgeous. Castiel has seen his share of beautiful men in his time, even dated a few of them, but Dean? He's in torn jeans, which ride alluringly low on slim hips, and a faded Led Zeppelin concert tee, which does nothing to disguise how well built he is. His light brown hair is spiked just so, and for some reason, his bare feet make him even more charming.

He's angry, a red flush growing in his ears and dancing across his cheekbones, bleeding into his neck. His green eyes are narrowed and dancing with fury. Castiel can't look away. He knew the man's eyes were green, but they are deeper and greener than he imagined. Like jade, or emeralds, something wonderful and poetic, a word that his hung over brain refuses to supply.

And the freckles alone…

"So now that we've established the fact that you won't be buying my car, would you like to see the kitchen?"

Castiel can hear the barely controlled fury in Dean's voice, and god help him, it's turning him on. He needs to squash that, quick, fast, and in a hurry. "Sure," he replies easily, "let's see your kitchen."

Dean nods and moves off to the left, down a short hall.

The kitchen is a large room, with an open floor plan that includes a den with a monster flat screen taking up most of one wall, hanging above a roughhewn mantle with a deep stone fireplace below. The den portion is painted a deep red, with lots of Chevrolet and KU memorabilia on the walls. There's a leather sofa, the color of dark chocolate, positioned directly in front of the TV, an oak coffee table in front, Super Chevy magazines stacked neatly on top.

The carpet is thick and plush, a deep tan, and Castiel's feet sink into it. The room is extremely welcoming, a set of sliding doors opening to reveal a deck, and Castiel can see a lovely backyard through the deck rails.

And the kitchen, well, the kitchen surprises him.

It's state of the art, granite countertops, Viking range, stainless steel fridge, cream porcelain farm-style sink under mounted in the granite island. The cabinets themself are honey colored oak, the floor a deeper tone, the granite, black with flecks of gold and green running through it, and the walls are a deep cream color. It's a wonderful kitchen, and Castiel can't help but be surprised, after all, Balthazar told him the man was a mechanic, and he wonders how a mechanic can afford such a nice place.

"Wow. I admit, it's nice. How the hell do you afford this place?"

The grin of pride on Dean's face is wiped away, confusion replacing it immediately. "What do you mean?"

"Well, you're just a mechanic right? How do you afford this on your salary?" Somewhere behind him, Balthazar groans quietly, and he watches in fascination as the fury dances across Dean's face again.

"I'm not "just a mechanic", I own my own shop and I specialize in classic car restorations. I make plenty, thank you very much, plus, I bought this place in bad shape and did most of the work myself, because I happen to be pretty fucking handy. It's not a fancy New York loft apartment, but it's home, and I love it."

Castiel is taken aback by the fire in Dean's voice, and he opens his mouth to apologize, but Dean's apparently got more to say.

"You know, I'm sorry you're stuck here in fucking Kansas with some hapless redneck that you have to teach cooking to, but you know what? It's your job man, this is what you do, so why don't you suck it up and act like a grownup? Take a look around, I have everything on the list your people gave me in the pantry, I have decent appliances, I have All Clad pans, I have _your _knives from Kohl's, and surprise! I actually already know how to cook! I should have never entered this stupid contest. I thought you were cool, man, but you're just another stuck up celebrity. So let's just get through this, and at the end of the day, you can walk away from here and pretend it didn't happen."

The silence in the house is overwhelming, and all Castiel can do is stare. Dean's breathing hard, anger creating that beautiful flush again, and all Castiel can think is, _I am so screwed._

Because this man in front of him is making his heart do some pretty crazy things.

* * *

"Well alright then," Balthazar says cheerfully, "now that we've cleared the air, let's get you two dressed up and ready to go." He pulls a short redhead from the crowd and she smiles at Dean. "This is Charlie Bradbury. Dean, she's going to go with you to look at your wardrobe and pick something lovely for you to wear, so you run off with her, and I'll take care of our lovely chef here."

Charlie comes over and grabs Dean's hand, and smiles. He smiles back half-heartedly, and he leads her up the stairs to his bedroom. She stops just inside and looks around. "Holy cow. This is gorgeous!"

Dean beams, because his bedroom is gorgeous. It's his favorite room in the whole house.

The walls are Caribbean blue, the floor is hardwood stained deep mahogany. His dresser, armoire, nightstands, and massive four post king size bed are all about two shades lighter than the floor, and they're all thrift store finds that he stripped and refinished himself. None of the pieces match exactly, but look like they belong together anyway. All his bedding is white, and matches the white curtains hanging in the wide window. Through a doorway is his bathroom, with the big steam shower he and Sammy spent a whole entire weekend putting together.

This is his sanctuary, and as much as he loves his den, this is the place he loves the most in the entire house.

"I'm serious. This is beautiful. Did you do all the work in here, too?"

"Yeah, me and my brother."

"Wow. I mean…just wow. It's like something out of magazine." She grins. "Bet the ladies love your bed, huh?"

"Sure," he says easily, and pushes down the hurt that threatens to well up. He's not thinking about that today, no fucking way.

"Ok, well let's get in your closet here, and see what you've got." She pulls open the doors to his armoire, and starts pawing through his clothes. "Wow, you've got some really nice stuff. Don't think I'll need any of the things we brought." She starts pulling things out, appraising them, and putting them back or moving across the room and laying them on the bed. Dean shifts uncomfortably, wondering if he should help, or just stay out of the way.

"Dude!" she holds up a tee, "killer Star Wars shirt!"

He smiles, and she puts it back. "Hey, Charlie? Can I ask you something?"

"Sure, dude, ask away."

"Is he always like that?"

She stops and turns, a sad smile on her face. "Yeah, sometimes. He doesn't do the publicity thing well. Castiel's all about the food, and he sees publicity as a necessary evil, but he also thinks Balthazar gets carried away sometimes. He really, really didn't want to do this. But, Dean, it's not your fault, ok?"

"Yeah, sure. Ok."

She beams at him again, and holds up several items she's laid on the bed. "Time to play dress up!"


	2. Warm Up

"I cannot believe you! You've acted like a complete and total wanker since we walked in the front door!"

Balthazar is dragging Castiel back outside. The production trailer has just rolled up, and the crew is scrambling around, unloading lighting and sound equipment. There's people everywhere, moving gear into Dean's house, and Castiel and Balthazar retreat to one end of Dean's lovely front porch.

Castiel leans over the porch rail, gazing out at the Impala sitting in the driveway like a queen.

"Well it's not like I meant to upset him."

"You tried to buy his car, when he clearly wasn't selling, then insulted his house and his livelihood all in one idiotic sentence. What part of that did you think wouldn't upset him? Why didn't you just stab him in the eye while you were at it? Excellent job, you cantankerous bastard."

Castiel whirled on Balthazar, fury in his eyes.

"I told you I didn't want to do this," he hissed. "Over and over again, I told you. And you refused to listen, you just plowed ahead as usual. You don't care what happens as long as you get the shot you want and the footage you need. You're a damn bloodsucker, Balthazar. Don't even presume to act like I'm the only one at fault here. Maybe next time you should consult me first before you make idiotic plans!"

"Well, maybe you shouldn't have gotten a reputation for being an asshole, and I wouldn't have to work so hard on fixing your PR. Have you forgotten the little incident in Los Angeles? Because I haven't. And if that gets out, you're screwed. Career-ending screwed, Cassie. I've done everything I can to bury that. Now it's time to play nice for the cameras. You can only get away with playing God for so long, Cassie dear. Time to come back down to Earth and make friends with the other children, starting with Mr. Winchester."

Castiel huffs and drops into a white rocking chair. Balthazar's right. That incident in California could end him. He'd been drunk, very drunk, and made a stupid mistake, making an obscene pass at a very well known, very straight celebrity. Luckily, the guy wasn't interested in his name getting out there either, so for now at least, it was all very hush hush. But if the other party ever started talking…

Food Network had no issue with openly gay chefs. They did have an issue with their stars getting into trouble, and being accused of sexual harassment by an Oscar winning actor would definitely be an issue for them.

So Balthazar buried it. He made sure everyone involved was compensated, took care of the actor, and made it go away. Unfortunately for Castiel, that left him pretty much at Balthazar's mercy where PR was concerned. Hence the recent trips to Savannah and New Orleans to play nice with America's Sweetheart and Mr. Cajun Himself.

"Ok. Fine. I'll do this your way, I'll smile and be friendly and charming. I won't insult his house or car or livelihood or even the cracks in his driveway. I'll go to the store with him and be helpful, I'll show him how to mince garlic like a pro, and when it's over, I'll go home and sip some Merlot and forget this ever happened."

"That's my boy," Balthazar retorts sarcastically. "Now go get dressed. Dammit, we're behind schedule already."

Castiel nods, and pulls himself back up out of the chair, and wanders down the steps to the small RV parked at the end of Dean's driveway.

He looks longingly at the Impala before making his way inside. Maybe he could play nice enough to convince Dean to take him for a ride later.

Hey, a guy could hope.

* * *

Dean, dressed now in the clothes Charlie had selected for him, made his way down the steps, carrying on a discussion with his new friend about who was the better starship captain.

"Kirk, hands down, all-time best."

"No, dude, Janeway! She broke down the standard, she was pioneering."

"Kirk was a badass. He was like the Han Solo of Star Trek."

"Oh, please. Seriously, you're going to try and put Kirk in the same league as Solo? We all know Solo tops them all."

"Well, that's true. Solo, Mal Reynolds, and Kirk. That's my team."

"Ooh, yeah, I can get behind the Mal Reynolds. Love me some Joss Whedon."

"Me too! Buffy fan?"

"Does a slayer carry a sharp stick?

Dean laughed at Charlie's response. They were still laughing when they walked into his den, flopping down on the leather couch simultaneously. Charlie's eyes swept the room, checking out the memorabilia on the walls, and the loaded book shelves.

"Lot of books, lots of awesome DVD's, no game system?"

Dean grins and stands, crossing the room to the fireplace. "I come prepared, sister," he smiles, and pulls on the front of the mantle. The mantle opens on a hinge, revealing a large open space inside.

"Oh baby. Oh baby. I'm so moving in here. PS3, Xbox, Wii? Holy cow, I'd marry you just for the game stations, except I'm totally taken. You're like my evil twin though. Older evil twin, but still."

"Taken, huh?"

"Yeah, my girlfriend Gilda actually goes to KU. She's an Environmental Studies major. Dude, I'm from Topeka, so I was pretty friggin' happy you turned out to be a Kansan too. I was ready to come home for a while."

"Grew up here too?"

"Yup, but left as soon as I was old enough, moved to New York. Met Gilda online, and poof! Back to Kansas. I split my time between here and there."

"Must be kinda hard."

"Sometimes. But she's totally worth it." Charlie gets a moony look on her face, and Dean can't help but smile. He could tell she was completely nuts about this Gilda chick. Grabbing a picture frame off the end table, she looks at it a moment, then looks up at Dean. "Is this Sam?"

"Yup, that's my "little" brother." He loves that picture. He and Sam were standing on the sand on the beach at Waikiki. He'd taken Sam to Hawaii as a graduation gift when his brother finished law school several years before. Braved a plane and everything.

In the picture, they've got their arms around each other's shoulders, huge smiles and dark sunglasses, Sam's ridiculous floppy hair wind-blown, both a little drunk from one too many Mai Tai's. Dean had never had more fun then he'd had that week. Drinking too much, learning to surf, taking long drives around Oahu, visiting the Arizona at Pearl Harbor, just him and Sam, doing whatever the hell they wanted, whenever they wanted.

They were young, and happy, and content with their lives.

Now, less than five years later, and Sam was still happy, a rising star at his law firm, married to his beautiful Jess, gorgeous house in Overland Park, and talking about starting a family.

And Dean? Well, he had a house. And a business. And his beautiful car. So that would have to be enough for now.

"Dude. He's taller than you, and you're not exactly short. He's like some kind of, I don't know?"

"Sasquatch?" Dean supplies with a smile.

Charlie giggles. "You totally call him that, don't you."

"Yeah."

She laughs again, and Balthazar sweeps back into the room, chatting a mile a minute to the people around him, giving orders, all while typing on his phone. "Oh, lovely, you're ready, just need hair and makeup, Charlie, take him out to the trailer please."

"You got it boss."

"Makeup?" Dean whispers.

"Don't worry, we're not talking about making you a girl or anything dude. Just enough to make you not too shiny for the cameras. You won't be a painted whore." She grins and Dean chuckles.

"Well that's a relief."

* * *

Castiel is leaning back in the chair, getting his hair artfully mussed into the preferred style, what Jeannie calls "sex hair", when Charlie brings Dean in.

His new outfit is even better than the old one.

He's wearing tight, really tight, dark blue jeans that fit him perfectly, a nicely fitted black blazer, and a jade v neck tee that makes those damn green eyes appear even greener. Castiel mourns the loss of the bare feet, as Dean now has on a pair of laced-up black leather boots. He sits in the chair Charlie directs him to, looking horrendously uncomfortable as he takes in the myriad of styling products and makeup lining the shelf below the large mirror directly across from him.

Dean looks over at Castiel for second, meets his eyes, and looks away quickly, a hint of shyness in his expression that turns Castiel to goo. God, he's just so damn adorable, and he doesn't even realize the effect he has.

"Ok, Chef, you're done. Go get dressed." Jeannie points to the back of the trailer. "Your outfit's back there waiting for you."

"Sounds good." He stands, looks at Dean for a second, who's furtively looking everywhere but at him, then heads to the back.

Castiel finds the outfit she'd laid out for him, and starts stripping out of his other clothes. He can hear Jeannie and Dean talking in the other room, and he can't help but smile at the sheer amount of nervousness in the other man's voice.

Dressing quickly, he walks back into the makeup area, watching as Jeannie smears foundation and powder on Dean's face, hiding most of his lovely freckles. He knows the makeup is necessary, but still, it seems like such a shame to cover all of that up.

Dean's still not looking at him, and avoids his eyes when Castiel comes and stands behind the chair so he can see Dean's face in the mirror.

"Looking good," he says softly, and pats Dean on the shoulder, enjoying the other man's slight flinch.

* * *

What is that asshat playing at?

Twenty minutes ago, he's acting like he can't stand Dean, now he's patting his shoulder and being all complimentary and digging into Dean's skull with those damn blue eyes.

Dean's an honest guy, and he can appreciate attractive scenery. Chef Castiel's intense blue eyes haven't escaped his notice. He hasn't missed the thick dark brown mop on the guy's head that screams all night sex, and he sure hasn't missed the way his whole face changes when he smiles.

He's changed into a simple white button down and navy blue pants, and Dean finds he actually kind of misses the torn jeans and ratty tee. Then he mentally kicks his own ass for that thought. Castiel leans in closer, and Dean's really had enough.

"Dude. Personal space, Cas!"

Castiel stands up, back rigid. "What did you call me?"

"Cas. Short for Castiel, which is friggin' mouthful."

Castiel's face goes stormy, and Dean figures he's gone too far, then Castiel shrugs.

"I like it," he says, and makes his way out of the trailer.

Jeannie laughs at the confusion on Dean's face.

"Guess he thinks it's better than Cassie, which is what Balthazar calls him. I think he likes you, Dean, he just sometimes has a weird way of showing it," Charlie chimes in, laughter in her voice as well. "Anyway, when Jeannie's done with you, come outside and find us. The sound and camera guys are working on the Impala, so we'll be over there." She ducks out the door, furiously typing away on her cell as she goes.

"Ok," Dean calls after her, looking in the mirror as Jeannie messes with his hair, Charlie's words suddenly clicking into his confused brain. "Working on the…wait, what are they doing to my car?!"

* * *

Castiel is standing next to the Impala, watching the camera guys set up the mini cams, when Dean comes flying out of the trailer, the makeup bib still around his neck, fear and fury warring for dominance on his mostly made-up face.

"What the hell are you doing to my car?!" he shrieks, yanking one of the camera guys off the hood and inspecting the camera mount.

"It's ok!" Charlie yells, "It's just temporary, it won't hurt the car or anything, I swear!"

"Why are they doing it in the first place? I didn't think we were filming in my damn car for pete's sake!"

"I believe the plan is to drive to the store in the Impala," Castiel informed Dean.

"What? Why would we do that?"

"My idea!" Balthazar smiles, as he appears in the center of the commotion. "The episode is mostly about you, and your home, your life, so I thought you and Cassie should ride to the store in your car. Makes sense to me." He clearly considers the matter settled and moves off to handle other issues.

Castiel watches several emotions dance across Dean's face, resignation finally settling in. It's fascinating to watch him. His face is so open, and his eyes tell a person exactly what they want to know. Castiel wonders what he would see in those eyes if Dean were excited, or aroused, and he mentally stomps on that train of thought.

"No control in my own damn house," Dean grumbles, as Jeannie and Charlie both grab an arm and drag him back to the makeup trailer.

"Don't get a single damn scratch on this car," Castiel informs the crew, wondering why the car is so very important to Dean, but finding that he cares enough to see it protected for him. The camera guys acknowledge his words, and get back to working, and Castiel wanders back into the house.

Other members of the crew are moving around the kitchen, moving stuff off of Dean's counters, replacing it with things they'll need, and setting up lights and sound equipment.

Castiel moves into the den, marveling at Dean's built in bookshelves, wondering if this was something else the man did himself. There's lots of DVD's, and lots of books, several of which are thick Chilton's car repair manuals.

He's surprised to see titles by Vonnegut, Kerouac, Poe, and Lovecraft. Apparently, being a mechanic does not preclude intelligence, and he's disappointed in himself for ever thinking it did.

On the mantle are several framed pictures, and he looks at them with interest. One catches his eye right away. It's of the Impala, and leaning against her hood is a handsome dark haired man with an arm wrapped around a gorgeous blonde woman. She's holding a dark haired infant; the man has a blonde toddler in his arms. They're all smiling, and Castiel notices the woman has Dean's eyes.

"That's me, my brother, and my mom and dad. Now you know why I won't sell the car," Dean says softly behind him, and Castiel jumps slightly and sets the picture back on the mantle. He turns to look at Dean, surprised at the level of pain and sadness looking back at him from Dean's eyes.

"Are they gone?" he asks quietly, "Your family?"

"My mom and dad are. My brother lives in Overland Park with his wife."

"I'm sorry for your loss. My parents are gone as well. It's difficult. Sometimes I think of things I wish to tell them, and I've got the phone in my hand and dialing the number before I remember. You never get over it."

Dean nods in agreement. "Nope. You never do."

* * *

"Any brothers or sisters?" Dean asks Castiel, relieved that they seem to have found some common ground.

"One brother, Gabe, and a sister, Anna. We're pretty close. You?"

"Just Sammy and my little brother, Adam. But we're pretty close too." Dean grabs the picture Charlie was looking at earlier. "This is Sam, when we went to Hawaii a few years ago."

Castiel takes it from him and looks it over. "He's very tall. You look happy here."

Dean laughs. "Yeah, he's like 6'4", and we were happy. Drunk out of our minds, but happy. After we got that picture taken, we got more drunk, then decided to go to a Luau, and almost got kicked out for being a little too enthusiastic. That's one of those things we don't tell his wife about."

Yeah, 'cause seriously, Jess would've killed both of them if she'd known just how determined Sam had been to kiss one of the hula dancers.

"I'll never forget his drunk ass trying to stay upright long enough to learn the hula moves the dancers were trying to teach us. We both passed out later in our room, he didn't even make to his bed. Slept late as hell the next morning, and did it all over again. Best week of my life, but 90% of it's a drunken blur."

"Sounds like fun. I love Hawaii."

"Me too. I want to go back someday."

Castiel smiles at Dean, and Dean can't help but smile back. Maybe the guy was just having a rough morning, 'cause he seems nice as hell now. Maybe Dean misjudged him.

"Hey, Dean?"

"Yeah, Cas?"

Castiel smiles at the nickname. "I'm sorry about this morning. I was hung over, and I'm not a huge fan of this publicity crap. But none of that's your fault, and I'm sorry. Truce?" He extends his hand for Dean to shake.

"No man, no truce," Dean says, taking Castiel's hand and shaking it, "Friends?"

Cas grins at him and Dean grins right back.

Things are definitely looking up.


	3. Strawberries

"Hello, I'm Castiel Novak, chef and host of Food Network's _A Little Taste of Heaven. _We're coming to you today from the Lawrence, Kansas home of Dean Winchester. Dean and I will be cooking a romantic meal for two today, starting with heading to the grocery store to pick up the items we need."

Castiel strolls across Dean's lawn, smiling into the lens as he makes his way over to the Impala, where Dean is standing, trying to remember all of the things Balthazar had told him about being on camera, but the only thing he can think of is how nice Cas looks, with his sleeves rolled up on his forearms, the sun in his hair, and a smile on his face, blue eyes sparkling as he explains the contest.

Dean shakes his head. Why is he thinking stuff like this? He's not into dudes! At least, he wasn't before…was he? There was the obsession with Harrison Ford, and his Dr. Sexy fetish, and Hugh Jackman, but isn't everyone in love with him? _Crap_, he thinks, _am I into guys too? When the fuck did that happen? And why am I thinking about it now? Oh, this is so not the time, I must be losing my mind, it's just been too damn long since I got laid, and he's got such pretty eyes, and he's so…dammit, Dean, cool it, keep it together man!_

He fidgets, shuffling his feet on the grass, watching Castiel talk into the camera like it was the most natural thing in the world. Dean's heart pounds, his breath quickens, and he realizes, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he's attracted to Castiel. _I'm so screwed,_ he thinks sadly. There was no way his interest would be mutual, after all, Cas probably gets a thousand dates, and has his choice of famous supermodels or something, and he was just here for a day, not to mention he really didn't want to be here, so why would he be the least bit interested in Dean? Besides, it's not like he had anything to offer the guy, and Dean was really past the point of the one-night stand thing, and he was looking for something more important, something lasting, hell, he even wanted to settle down, share his pretty little house with someone, he just wanted what Sam and Jess had…

_Dude, what the hell Winchester? Derail that train right now._

* * *

Castiel finishes his monologue, and makes his way over to the Impala. Dean's leaning against the passenger door, arms crossed over his chest, using his easy stance to try and disguise his obvious nervousness.

"So, Dean, what types of food do you think of when you're planning a romantic evening?"

Dean's eyes widen, and Castiel almost laughs at the sheer amount of terror in the other man's face.

"Um, uh…"

"Don't worry, take a breath and we can start over. They'll just edit out whatever doesn't work. It's ok."

"Ok," Dean breathes, relieved. "I kind of panicked. Balthazar told me what I was supposed to say, but I froze. I'm an idiot. Sorry, man."

"It's ok; you've never done anything like this before. We'll make it work, the editors will make it magic. Just relax and talk to me like we're just having a friendly conversation."

"Ok."

"Remember what you were going to say?"

"Yeah. I think I got it now. I'm ready." Dean scratches the back of his neck and smiles at Castiel. "Yeah, let's do this."

"Ok, from the beginning then." Castiel pauses, then begins again. "So, Dean, what types of food do you think of when you're planning a romantic evening?"

"Well, I really like Filet Mignon and Italian food in general. Girls always seem to be impressed by Italian food."

"Italian food is very romantic. The Italians are known for their skills in the art of romance. Does your girl enjoy Italian food?"

"Sure," Dean replies, not meeting Castiel's eyes. His avoidance made him wonder if there was actually a girl at all. "Doesn't everyone?"

"Well, I sure do. So today's menu will have a very Italian influence. We'll be making an Arugula and Parmesan salad with a light Balsamic Vinaigrette, Shrimp Scampi, Spinach Risotto, and Filet Mignon with Red Wine Sauce. Then, for dessert, fresh berries with Zabaglione." Castiel reaches over and opens the passenger door of the Impala. "But first, Dean and I are going to head to the local grocery store to pick up the steaks, berries, and several other items we'll need. Dean's going to drive us there in his gorgeous 1967 Impala, which is such a great car, you could probably take your girl to a drive through and still score."

Dean blushes furiously, and Balthazar yells, "we're cutting that, honestly, Cassie!" from somewhere behind the camera man.

"Sorry, couldn't resist," he says, winking at Dean, who unbelievably, manages to turn a shade redder. Oh, boy, this man. Castiel could think of a thousand things he'd like to do with Dean, and not one of them had anything to do with a grocery store, unless it was feeding him strawberries in the middle of the produce department, and he could probably get away with that, too, tell Dean to eat one for a quality test, just reach out and pop it in his gorgeous mouth, watch those damn plump lips of his wrap around it, berry juice running in a slow trickle down his chin, and Castiel would just lean forward and lick the juice…

"Cassie! Get in the bloody car already, we're behind schedule."

* * *

Dean did his best to focus on driving through Lawrence and not looking at the cameras perched on his hood and dashboard. The mounts were suction cups, and he knew they wouldn't leave a mark, but he still didn't like it.

Between that, and the distraction currently lounging in the seat next to him, it'll be a wonder if he makes it to the 6th Street Hy-Vee without having an accident.

"Dean, you have to talk to me, or we won't have enough material for the episode."

Dean feels his cheeks flush again, and that annoys the shit out of him. Since when does he blush like a school girl with a crush?

"I don't really know what to say."

"Tell me about Lawrence. Tell me about KU. Tell me about your business. Share anything you want. Did you grow up here?"

"Yeah, I grew up here. My business is Winchester and Sons Auto Restoration Limited. Long name, but my dad picked it out. Originally, we worked on all kinds of cars, but when I started working with him regularly, I convinced him to focus more on restorations. We hired some guys that were really well known in the field, and then we did a job for Jay Leno. That job put us on the map, and we've been pretty well known since. It's a good life, doing what I actually want to do. So many people have to settle and I'm actually living my dream. It's great. I'm happy."

Dean trails off, feeling the lie in his words. He's not happy, not really, but he's not going to share his bullshit problems with some bullshit TV show.

"And what's your brother Sam do? Wasn't interested in joining the family business?"

"No," Dean laughs, "that was the last thing he wanted to do. No, Sam put himself through Stanford, and he's a lawyer in Overland Park. He specializes in family law, and focuses on children's rights especially. He's trying to save the world."

"What about Adam?"

"He's at KU, working on a Master's in Mechanical Engineering. I'm so damn proud of both of them."

"I can tell. So, do you like living in Lawrence?"

"I love it here. It's not too busy, just big enough to have everything you need. And people in Kansas are just awesome. People are nice and laid back. If you need a big city, Kansas City is only about an hour away. And the food here, man, have you ever had some good Kansas City-style BBQ?"

"No, I haven't. I've never been to Kansas before."

"Oh man, you gotta get some ribs or brisket before you leave."

"Recommend a place?"

"I can recommend _several_ places! Arthur Bryant's, Jack Stack and Oklahoma Joe's up in the city, and Bigg's right here in Lawrence is pretty decent."

"Do you go up to Kansas City often?"

"Yeah, there's a lot to do up there, and with Sammy living right there in Overland, I'm up in KC a good bit. I think Arthur Bryant's gets more of my money than any of those other joints. Man, the ribs in that place. Wow. Just wow."

"Chiefs fan then?"

"Nah," Dean laughed, "don't tell anyone, but Sammy and me both are big ole Cowboys fans. Can't help ourselves. Although my love for KU knows no bounds. Jayhawks rock. " Dean relaxed back into the seat, enjoying himself now. Cas's questions about stuff he could actually answer helped a lot.

"Tell me about the store we're going to. Ever been there before?"

"Yeah, that's where I do most of my shopping. They have an awesome meat counter, like an old school butcher shop almost."

"Perfect." Cas looks over at Dean and smiles. "How's the produce?"

"Pretty decent. Although in the summer months, you have to hit some of the farm stands around here. Kansas is farm country, after all."

"Kansas isn't as flat as I had thought it would be."

"Not in this area. This is called the Flint Hills. Get out past Salina though, and it's pretty damn flat." Dean makes a left and pulls into the parking lot. "Well, we're here."

"Yup, time for groceries." Cas hits him with a broad smile, and Dean feels slightly dazzled. He sighs as he pulls himself from the car.

This is gonna be a long day.

* * *

Dean's totally right about the store, and Castiel is pleasantly surprised.

He's used to places like Dean and Deluca, and Chelsea Market, but this store is nicely stocked. They're in the produce department, and the other shoppers are starting to take notice, and he's seen several phones out, no doubt snapping pictures. He'll probably end up signing a few autographs before they go.

"So first thing we're going to get is our produce. We need garlic, arugula, spinach, berries, shallots, and a few other items. Dean, do you know what to look for when picking out garlic?"

Dean looks at the bin for a moment, then selects a head. "The cloves are supposed to be compact, and close together, no green sprouts," he says, handing the bulb to Castiel, "right?"

"Right. Where'd you learn that from?"

Dean smiles. "Your show."

"Oh. Very good, glad to know you paid attention."

"I always pay attention to you."

Castiel looks at Dean, and there's a moment, it's like they're alone in the store, and Castiel swears he can feel the electricity between them.

"Well. Ok, let's um, let's move onto the greens." Castiel takes Dean through the greens selection, choosing the perfect bunches of spinach and arugula. They pick the rest of the items as well, camera trailing them the whole way, Castiel gently instructing Dean on what to choose, although he's surprised yet again, Dean really does have a solid knowledge of what's good, and what should be left behind.

They move on to choose the berries next, and Castiel is determined he's going to get a strawberry in that man's mouth. Dean holds up a pint of blueberries, and Castiel nods his approval. Next, they choose some golden raspberries, just because they're pretty and Dean likes the color variation. On to the strawberries.

Castiel chooses a container and pops it open, and holds it up to his nose to sniff. He plucks a large, ripe fruit from the package.

"Here, try this," he says, and gives Dean no time to react, just reaches out and shoves the berry in Dean's open mouth. Dean's eyes widen in surprise, the damn thing is too big, he can't really even take a bite, and he reaches up, and quickly pulls it back out.

"Trying to kill me with a strawberry, dude? Little warning next time, Jesus." He takes a bite, just a plain old boring bite, and grins. "They're really good though. Nice and sweet. You should try one, too." He hands one to Castiel, then turns away and puts the container in the cart. Castiel sighs.

That didn't go like he wanted it to at all. Moving on.

"Ok, let's go look at the meat."

* * *

Cas helps him choose four 8 ounce filets from the meat counter, then they wander the rest of the store, picking up cream and Arborio rice, and aged balsamic vinegar. They choose a nice wedge of parmesan and some kalamata olives for the salad.

Dean takes it all in, listening carefully to Cas's instructions, making it a point to try and ask interesting questions. Sarah reminds them that they're on a schedule and need to get back to the house as soon as possible, so they wrap it up and head for the check stand. The camera and sound guys start packing up their equipment, and Dean's relieved as the pressure of trying to be smart for the camera ends.

He pushes the cart around the corner, very aware of the small crowd of people following at a respectful distance.

"Dude. You've got fans."

Cas looks behind him, and grins at Dean.

"Yeah, that happens. What can I say, I'm popular. Probably have to stop and sign a few autographs on the way out. Won't take too long. And if Balthazar was here, he'd demand it anyway, and give me a bunch of shit about all of the _positive PR Cassie darling_!" Cas says the last part in a snooty British accent, and both Dean and Sarah laugh at him.

"God, Castiel, you sound just like him!" she giggles.

"And we can make fun of him now, the cameras are gone!"

"Is he really that bad?"

"No, Dean," Sarah replies, "he's worse!" She takes the cart from Dean. "I'll go pay for all of this, meet you guys at the front."

"So, did Balthazar like discover you or something?" They're passing through the organic foods section, and Cas is looking at everything with interest. He seems pleased with the store, and that makes Dean feel a little burst of pride. It's just more proof that being from the Midwest isn't some sort of stupid curse, and that Kansans can be just as cosmopolitan as New Yorkers, dammit.

"No," Cas laughs, "he did not "discover" me. I guess you could say Bobby Flay did, and told the powers that be at the Network that I was funny and charming. He came to my restaurant one night, and I guess I impressed him, so he went back and told the execs, and the next thing I know, I'm in for a screen test, then they had me on Chopped, which I won of course. Next was Iron Chef, and I beat Bobby. No one beats Bobby, hell even I was shocked. Next thing I know, they're talking series and contracts. Balthazar came with the contract. And, despite all my complaining about him, he's one of my best friends."

"Do you like it? The whole cooking on TV thing?"

Cas looks thoughtful, but nods anyway. "It's fun. It's tiring, but it's fun. Sometimes, I wish I could just stop and take a minute. I'm so damn busy these days. It gets old, believe me."

Dean nods, then notices something out of the corner of his eye. "Dude. Check it out. You're famous!"

Cas follows Dean's eyes. There's a display of cookbooks set up on a small table by the front of the store, and the title featured is "Cooking Fast and Fresh with Chef Castiel".

"Oh dear lord, no wonder half the damn store's following us." Cas leans over and whispers in Dean's ear, and it makes goose bumps run up his spine. "Guess I have to play nice with the other children, huh?" Sarah waves them over, and tells them Cas can sign autographs for fifteen minutes, and then they absolutely have to leave. The crew is already outside with the Impala, taking film of the outside of the store and the car.

The management has set up a table for Castiel, along with stack of his cookbooks. For the next fifteen minutes, Dean watches as fans, mostly ladies, line up for an autograph and a picture. He watches with conflicting emotions. There's pride, because he's pretty sure Cas is his friend, and he's truly happy for the man's success. There's amusement, like when this adorable four year old with bouncy yellow curls tells Cas that he's her "favorite cooker in the whole wide world". And then there's something else.

A young lady, early twenties maybe, in a low cut top and extremely short mini skirt, wearing entirely too much makeup for Dean's taste, pushes herself tightly against Castiel's side while she poses for a picture. Castiel grins at the camera, even as the girl attempts to push herself closer, and Dean feels something dark and unpleasant curling against his spine, along with an inexplicable urge to hurl the girl to floor.

_What the hell, Winchester? What the fuck is wrong with you?_

* * *

Dean's very quiet on the way back to his house.

Castiel wonders if he said something wrong. They're not filming now, so he doesn't see a need to push, but at the same time, if he did something wrong, he wants to know.

"Dean? Are you ok?"

Dean looks slightly startled at the question, but he nods woodenly.

"I'm fine," he mumbles.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure."

Castiel watches him for a moment, and is surprised when he can visibly see Dean's mood change, like he flipped some kind of internal switch.

"So," Dean says conspiratorially, "how about all those adoring fans? That one chick looked like she wanted to bag you up and take you home with the groceries!"

"Ugh, so not my type. But I have to be nice."

"Not your type huh? What kind is your type? Blondes, brunettes? Blue eyes?"

Castiel smiles. "Nope. I like green eyes and freckles."

The effect is instantaneous. Dean's face goes bright red, his eyes widen comically, and he turns his head away and stares out the window. He doesn't say another word until they get back to the house, but he doesn't have to. Castiel already knows.

Dean likes him too.


	4. Garlic

Dean helps carry in all the grocery bags, still feeling completely off-balanced by the "freckles and green eyes" comment.

Was Cas actually flirting with him? Or was he reading too much into it, and the guy was just trying to be nice?

_I'm so out of practice, I don't think I'd recognize flirting even if it came with a neon sign and punched me in the nuts. _

Cas and Balthazar are discussing the order in which the food will be cooked, but Dean's tuned out, his thoughts running a thousand miles a minute in another direction. He feels wrong-footed, unsure of everything. Castiel has managed to completely upend his entire world in the matter of a few hours and Dean doesn't even know how to begin dealing with the situation.

The sad thing is, even though Dean's never "gone there" with a guy, he's totally ready to make an exception for Cas, but he knows there's no chance in hell. Possible flirting aside, he can't even begin to think that Cas would have any serious interest in him. And like Dean's told Sam before, he's totally done with the one night stand thing. He's just too damn old for that crap anymore, and he wants a relationship, a _real_ relationship.

He wanders out of the kitchen, and goes and stands by the sliding glass doors, and stares out at his back yard. When he bought this place, he had imagined himself and a significant other entertaining on the deck he would build. He had imagined himself flipping his signature gourmet burgers on a big old grill, drinking beers with Sam and Jess, just two regular guys with their wives. Three years later, he had the deck, and the grill, he still had Sam and Jess, and the burgers and the beer, but the rest of the equation was missing.

Dean's just gotten to the point in his life where's he ready to accept the fact that he's meant to be alone. He's come to terms with being relationship poison. He's not happy about it, but he's accepted it.

But, as he turns to watch Cas move around his kitchen, opening cabinets and pulling out dishes, he feels a tug in his heart. Cas looks so damn perfect standing there, like he just _belongs_ in that kitchen, and Dean wonders what it would be like to come home to him, Cas making some perfect little dinner, a smile on his face as Dean comes in from work. Maybe they'd eat together on the couch and watch a movie, snuggle a little, make out…

_Holy shit, Winchester. You have to stop this now. Cas isn't interested in you, and even if he was, he's sure not looking to settle down in Kansas. God, man, get it the fuck together already. Don't do this to yourself._

* * *

Castiel helps Sarah and Charlie sort through the groceries. They lay everything out on the table at the far end of Dean's kitchen.

"So, we'll do the Zabaglione first, 'cause it can hang in the fridge. Scampi next, then the filets, risotto, and then the salad. The salad has to be last because it will wilt."

"Ok. So focus on the Zabaglione first. What do you need for that?" Charlie's got a notepad in her hand, writing things down as she goes.

"Eggs, sugar, the Marsala, and the berries."

Charlie pulls all of those items from the stack on the table. The rest of the items that need to be kept cold are moved by her and Sarah into Dean's refrigerator. Castiel moves back into the kitchen, and inspects Dean's pans, pulling out a deep saucepan.

He looks for Dean, and finds him standing by his back door, a thoughtful, if not a little bit sad, look on his face. Castiel frowns. Setting the saucepan on the stove, he leaves the kitchen, and walks over to where Dean is standing, looking a little lost in his own damn house. At least his approach earns him a half smile.

"You ok?"

Dean nods. "Yeah, just trying to stay out of everyone's way. It's really busy in there."

"We're just about ready to start. Did Balthazar explain how all of this is going to work?"

Dean absently scratches a spot on the back of his neck. "No, not really, just that you're going to show me what to do and stuff."

"Well, yes, that's going to happen of course, but how it will work is, we'll do one dish at a time, and they'll film us, then that dish will be set aside while we move on to the next one. At the end, all the dishes will be arranged just so, and filmed. Then all of that will be disposed of, and the crew will clean everything up. After that's done, you and I will cook everything again, and set up for your date, no crew, no cameras. That way, the food you actually want to serve won't have been sitting out all day, and will be fresh when your date gets here. Everyone except me and Balthazar will be gone by then, ok?"

Dean nods again, still looking a bit lost.

"We're going to do the Zabaglione first, because it can sit in the fridge for a while. Then we'll do the scampi and the filets, because they can also sit in the fridge for a while. The risotto will be next, the salad at the last minute. I'm going to show you things, and supervise, but you will actually be doing most of the work we show on camera. I think we're just about ready to start, so why don't you come over to the kitchen with me?"

"What if I screw everything up?"

"You won't, don't worry, and like I said before, the editors will make it gold." Castiel gives Dean his best reassuring smile. Dean gives him a weak smile in return, his nervousness clearly having returned full force. "Hey, don't be nervous Dean, it's going to be fine, ok? I promise."

* * *

Dean nods again and follows Castiel into the kitchen. Charlie's there, separating three eggs, putting the yolks in a glass bowl. There's stuff neatly lined up on his counters that isn't his, and the camera guys are double checking their settings and angles. He's got new lighting in his kitchen now, temporary fixtures that make the room way too bright and just this side of uncomfortably warm.

His skin feels itchy under the makeup he has on, and Dean's so nervous he's half-waiting for his hands to start shaking. Cas is pulling berries out of the containers, and arranging them artfully into a small porcelain bowl. He smiles at Dean.

"Ready?"

"What do I do?"

Cas motions him over. "We're just going to make like the cameras aren't there and cook this meal like two friends having some fun in the kitchen. I mean it, don't be nervous, you can't do anything wrong, and they can fix just about anything in the editing room. So I'm just going to start talking, and we're going to do this, and you, my friend, will be fine. Trust me."

Dean looks at Cas, and finds his blue eyes are sparkling, a gentle smile on his face, and Dean feels some of that nervousness melt away.

"Ok. I can do this."

"Of course you can. Now, grab that saucepan over there, and put about two inches of water in it, medium heat on the stove."

"Ok." Dean grabs the pot and puts the water in it, and turns on the burner. "Next?"

Cas instructs him on putting the Marsala and sugar in the glass bowl with the egg yolks. He uses a small hand-held mixer to beat the mixture together until it's light and fluffy. Castiel keeps a running commentary going on what they are doing and why, and Dean's barely aware of the cameras and the guys operating them.

"Ok, now move it over to the stove, and put it on top of that saucepan. Use the mixer and beat the custard over the water. That will cook the eggs. While you're doing that, I'm going to cut the strawberries."

Dean follows the instructions, concentrating on his assignment. He can hear Cas talking in the background about the berries they chose, and why, but he's quietly standing at the stove, watching as the liquid thickens, then turns fluffy again.

"Ok, that looks good," Cas says in his ear, and Dean jumps. "Go ahead and pull the mixer out, let's get that off the heat." Castiel takes the bowl off the saucepan and sets in on the counter. He grabs a piece of the strawberries he'd just cut up, and dips it in the Zabaglione. "Here, taste." Cas pops it in Dean's mouth before he can even react.

Dean's caught totally off guard, and he feels a flush start in his cheeks. Cas is watching him, almost as if he's waiting for some sort of reaction. All Dean can really do is chew and swallow, his feet frozen to his kitchen floor. He doesn't know what to do, and he sure can't understand why the hell a goddamn strawberry should have him feeling so discombobulated. And just when he thinks it can't get any worse, Cas reaches out and wipes his thumb across the corner of Dean's mouth.

"You had a little something right there," he says casually, then turns away from Dean, grabbing the Zabaglione bowl and putting it in the fridge.

* * *

Castiel smiles to himself as he puts the bowl in the fridge.

That was beautiful. Dean's reaction, the pink in his cheeks. He wants to do that again, and soon, and possibly for the rest of the day. Dean's still just standing there, his back to Castiel, and he takes pride in the fact that he totally engineered that blush lining the tops of the other man's ears.

"Ok, now let's do the shrimp." Grabbing the shrimp out of the fridge, Castiel sets them down on the counter next to where Dean's standing. "Know how to peel and devein?"

Dean turns to look at him finally, and they lock eyes for a second, until Dean finally nods.

"Ok, you do that, I'm going to get the rest of the ingredients." Castiel smiles, very much enjoying how flustered Dean still looks. If he could do that to him with just a strawberry, what else could he pull off, with say, chocolate?

_Damn. Should have added a chocolate dessert to the menu._

"Um, hello? Cassie? We do need something for the camera. Do you think you boys could possibly share what you're doing with the rest of the class?" Balthazar's annoyance is evident in the tone of his voice, and Castiel gives him a winning smile.

"Sure, boss," he says easily, and catches Charlie's eye. He can tell with a glance she knows what he's up to, and she smiles and winks at him. "Dean, how are those shrimp coming?"

"Um, they're um, they're done."

"Ok, come on over here, and let's get this garlic and parsley chopped up. We want to have everything ready before we start cooking, because this dish will go very fast." He hands Dean the garlic. "Break that up into cloves, then peel four of them."

"Ok." Dean gets to work, and Castiel is pleased when he uses the flat side of a knife to smash a clove on the cutting board.

"That's the most effective way to peel garlic. I'm going to finely dice the parsley. You'll want to set a few sprigs aside to garnish the finished dish with." Dean's mincing the garlic now, and Castiel sees another opportunity to mess with him. "Here, Dean, you're doing a great job, but if you hold the knife like this," Castiel slides in behind Dean, reaching one arm around him to rest his hand on the hand Dean's holding the knife with, "and put your other hand here," he puts his other hand on Dean's other hand, and places them both on top of the knife down near the tip of the blade, "you're better able to control the knife, resulting in a much finer dice." He can _feel_ the tension in Dean's body, and he leans in close, practically breathing in Dean's ear.

"See how much better that is?"

Dean turns his head, and looks in Castiel's eyes. The expression on his face in amazing, his mouth slightly open, cheeks faintly pink, and Castiel finally gets to see something he wondered about earlier.

He now knows _exactly_ how Dean's eyes look when he's aroused.

* * *

Dean has no idea how he manages to make it through the rest of the cooking they do for the camera.

Cas is constantly in his space, finding excuses to touch him, to offer him some _very_ hands-on advice. Dean's hoping at least some of the asinine shit that's come out of his mouth is workable, because Balthazar seems extremely frustrated, and Charlie and Sarah keep sending him these little winks and knowing smiles.

What the hell is going on here? When did this turn from a cooking show into a Penthouse Forum letter? He's being seduced by a well-known chef in his own kitchen and, God help him, he likes it. Hell, he _loves_ it. But when all of this is over, Cas is just going to get back in his fancy SUV and head back up to the airport. So it's frustrating, because he's sure Cas has figured out there's no mystery date coming, and Dean wants to ask Cas to stay and have dinner with him.

But then what? If he stays, then what? It's not like it's going to go any further than that.

Dean sighs, and plops down on his couch, sinking into the cushions, listening to the noise in his kitchen as the crew cleans up, and he does his best not to think about the fact that it's almost over, and most likely, Cas will leave, and Dean will never see him again.

Does he invite him to stay, and get rejected? Or does he pretend someone's coming over, and make a big show of rushing the crew out?

Dean drops his head into his hands, frustrated at his own lack of decision making.

"Dean? You ok?" Charlie pats his knee as she sits beside him on the couch. He looks at her and tries for a smile, hoping it's convincing.

"Yeah, I'm good."

"Liar."

"Yeah, well…" he trails off lamely.

"You don't have a date coming, do you?" she asks softly.

"No. That obvious, huh?"

She's quiet for a moment, then leans over and whispers in his ear. "I'm pretty sure I know what you're thinking. And you need to go for it. Seriously." He looks at her in surprise, and she smiles so sweetly at him. "Trust me, Dean. Go for it." She pats his knee again as she stands, and heads back to the kitchen. Most of the crew is gone now, and it's just Charlie, Sarah, Balthazar, and Castiel in his kitchen.

He studies Cas for a moment, taking him in as he laughs at something Sarah says, and he feels a rush of confidence. What exactly does he have to lose here? If Cas says no, he says no. If he says yes, he gets to spend the evening with his idol.

Cas turns his head, and smiles at him. Smiles _for_ him. His gorgeous cobalt blue eyes sparkle, and Dean's going to do it. He's going to do it, dammit.

Dean stands, takes a steadying breath, and heads out to the kitchen. He's going to do this. He's going to do this. He's going to do this.

"So, the girls are going to get going, and Cassie and I will stay and meet your date, and of course Cassie will help you cook a fresh version of the menu." Balthazar smiles, "you did beautifully today, Dean. You should be proud of yourself. Your date should be proud of you."

Dean takes a deep breath. This is it.

"Um, actually, I don't have a date. I was um, I was wondering, anyway, um, Chef? Do you want to um, stay? Have dinner with me?"

* * *

Castiel smiles. Oh, but he wasn't expecting that. Yeah, ok, he was. He totally was.

"I mean, if it's not too much trouble, I mean, I know you have to catch a plane and all…" Dean trails off, all the hopeful enthusiasm draining out of his face.

"I'd love to, Dean. My flight's not until tomorrow morning. Perhaps you could drive me back to Kansas City this evening? When we're done?"

Dean's face lights up, a very faint blush forming on his cheeks. "Sure, I can do that. No problem."

"Well, then, no reason for me to stay. I'll just ride back with the girls. If you're ok with that, Cassie?"

"Yes, that's fine."

"Well then, Charlie, Sarah, let's get on the road then. Dean," Balthazar extends a hand, and he and Dean shake hands, "lovely to meet you, thank you for allowing us to film in your lovely home. We'll call when the episode is scheduled to air. Probably won't be for a few months, not until the new season."

"Ok. Thanks for everything."

"My pleasure."

Sarah hugs Dean, so does Charlie, and as she pulls away, she whispers something in Dean's ear that makes him smile and blush a little more.

"Hey, call me next time you're in town, you and Gilda can come over, I'll make you burgers and kick your ass at Assassin's Creed."

Charlie laughs loudly. "I'd like to see you try!" Charlie flashes the Vulcan hand sign at them. "Peace out, bitches!"

Then the girls leave, Dean shutting the door behind them.

He turns and smiles at Castiel.

"That was fun. Weird, confusing, nerve-racking, but fun."

"Yes, it's always an adventure. Ready to make our dinner?"

"Sure."

"Good. I'm looking forward to helping you chop the garlic again."

Good God in heaven, Castiel doesn't think he'll ever get tired of making Dean blush.


	5. Champagne

"Remember what I said," Charlie had whispered in his ear, "go for it."

Dean watches Cas move around his kitchen, and wonders what exactly he should be "going for".

Dinner's almost done, Castiel is putting the finishing touches on it now. It was wonderful, cooking with Cas, without the distraction of the cameras, and the extra lighting, and Dean's finally scrubbed his face, grateful to have the makeup gone. It had been much more fun, cracking jokes, letting Cas hold spoons to his mouth, little bites of food to taste. He didn't feel nearly as uncomfortable now, and Cas didn't seem quite as determined to shake him up.

He sets the table while Castiel finishes putting the steaks on plates. Dean wonders if he did too much. He's gotten out his nicer dishes and cloth napkins, and his mother's silverware. It seems like a lot of trouble for dinner between friends, but there's a niggling voice in the back of his head that says this is more than dinner between friends, that this is, God help him, a _date_.

A date, a real live date, his first in over seven months. Nine, actually, since his last relationship went down in flames. He's had one date since, but he's not sure you could even call it a date, just a friend and him out for a drink. So yeah, no dates in over nine months.

Cas is pouring the rest of the wine they used for the sauce for the filets into glasses. Damn, he looks so good in Dean's kitchen. He turns to see Dean looking at him, and smiles, and gestures to the plates on the counter.

"We're ready to go here. Don't know about you, but I'm starving."

"Me too, believe me." Dean walks back into the kitchen and scoops up the plates, Cas grabs the bottle of wine and the glasses. They sit at Dean's table, late afternoon sunshine streaming in the bay window.

"So, here we are," Cas says as he lifts his glass, "to a delicious dinner, and new friends." They tap glasses, and each take a sip, and Dean, who normally doesn't even like wine, is impressed.

"This is good!"

"You seem surprised." Cas retorts drily.

"I'm normally a beer guy, but this is really good."

"_Vino Nobile di Montepulciano."_

"Fancy."

"It's a favorite, and it cooks down nice for that sauce. Which you should try, by the way." Cas points his fork at Dean's plate. "Eat it before it gets cold."

"Oh yeah. Almost forgot." Dean cuts into the filet, a perfect medium-rare, and swipes a piece through the puddle of sauce on his plate. It's delicious, and he tells Cas that.

"Of course it's delicious. I made it." Cas winks at Dean, who laughs loudly.

"Damn, you're full of yourself."

The other man chuckles. "Not the first time I've heard that. I have a rather obnoxious faith in my own abilities."

"I can see that. How'd you get started in the chef business anyway?"

"Washing dishes, if you can believe it. Then, my older brother Gabe insisted I go to culinary school, and him and my older sister Anna got together and paid for me to go to the Culinary Institutes of America. I started working my way up after that, got a head chef job in one of Batali's joints, then finally got some investors and opened _Blue Heaven._ Flay came in for dinner one night, and the rest is history."

"What's Gabe do?"

"Interestingly enough, he decided he wanted to cook too, so I ended up returning the favor and putting him through CIA. Now, he runs _Blue Heaven_ when I'm not around. Hell, he's better at it than I am, could probably just sign the place over to him."

"And Anna?"

"Her husband, Michael, is an investment banker in Chicago. Anna teaches Kindergarten."

"Do they have any kids?"

"Yes, two daughters, they're eleven and eight. Rachel and Sarah." Cas fishes his wallet out of his pants and flips it open, showing Dean the pictures inside. He points to one of a smiling brown haired man with unusual golden eyes, standing with his arm wrapped around a glamorous Indian woman. "This is Gabe, and his long time girlfriend, Kali. Kali runs an Indian restaurant in Midtown. They like to attempt to out-chef each other." He flips the picture to another one of a pretty redhead and a good looking dark haired man, two redheaded girls sitting on their laps. "And this is Anna and Michael and their girls."

"Good looking family," Dean says as he finishes his steak.

"Thanks. So Sam and Adam are your only family?"

"Well, not really. Adam's mine and Sam's half-brother from our Dad's second marriage, and there's our Uncle Bobby and Aunt Ellen, who are family friends. And Jo, Ellen's daughter, who was my first real girlfriend, which is eight kinds of creepy, seeing as how she's more like a sister. Ellen and Bobby aren't family by blood, but Sam and I have known them almost all our lives. They just got married two years ago, surprised the shit out of all of us and ran off to Vegas like a couple of teenagers. And Sam's been married to Jess for about three years now, and they're talking about starting a family."

"So you're not alone then. That's good. Everyone lives in Lawrence?"

"Well, Adam's sharing an apartment with a couple of guys. Ellen and Bobby live in Eudora, which isn't too far from here. They run a bar. Jo's here in town, she works at the shop, runs the office for me."

Dean finishes his dinner, and sets his napkin down. He drains his glass.

"What about your parents? What happened there?"

* * *

Dean's face pales. Clearly this is shaky ground.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked."

"No. It's ok." Dean swallows. "I just don't like to talk about it. Mom died in a fire in our old house when Sammy was six months old. The next handful of years pretty well sucked. Dad didn't handle things very well, and moved us around a lot. Then he met Bobby, and Ellen practically took us in, but Dad was still having problems, drinking a lot, moving around all the time. He left Sam and me with Bobby or Ellen almost all the time. Then, after he found out about Adam, because at first he didn't know the kid even existed, Kate didn't tell him 'til Adam was like ten or so, he started to settle down a little more. He and Bobby turned Bobby's salvage yard into Winchester and Sons, and he never looked back. He started seeing Adam's mom a lot more, then they got married. He was happy. Really happy."

Castiel refills Dean's wine glass, and Dean smiles gratefully at him as he takes a long draw of the wine.

"But then, a year ago, Dad and Kate were coming home from Kansas City, and a storm kicked up, and the wind pushed a tractor trailer into their lane. They both died. Troopers said they probably never even saw it coming. Sammy, Adam, and I have been a lot closer since then. It's been hard on all of us, but I think Adam took it the worst. After all, he lost his dad _and_ his mom."

He doesn't seem willing to say anything else, and Castiel doesn't push him.

"My father passed away from a heart attack two years ago. It was completely unexpected, he was only sixty-two, healthy, non-smoker, just one of those things. My mother never seemed to recover, and had a stroke six months after that. She died nine months ago. It's true, you know, people really can die from a broken heart."

Dean nods solemnly.

"Yeah. I can believe that."

A silence falls over them, the only sound in the room is the ticking of the clock in the kitchen. Castiel finishes his dinner, then quietly starts cleaning up the dishes.

"You don't have to do that, Cas. I can clean up."

"I want to, it's ok. Do you still want dessert? I made more Zabaglione, and there's plenty of berries left."

"Yeah, but not out here. Let's go hang out on the couch, maybe watch a movie or something. Why don't you pick one while I load the dishwasher."

"Ok." Castiel heads back to the den, and goes to Dean's bookshelves, taking in the many DVDs lining the shelves. "It's like a video store in here, I wouldn't even know where to start!"

"Well I like them all," Dean says from the kitchen, "so anything you pick is fine."

Castiel scans through the titles, surprised at some of them, amused at others. There's sci-fi, and war movies, action/adventure, fantasy, and even a few chick flicks. He pulls out one in particular, a personal favorite of his, pleased that Dean has both versions, but selecting the Harrison Ford edition.

"This is one of my favorites. I like Bogart and Hepburn's version, but somehow, it works better with Ford and Ormond."

Dean blushes slightly. "Are you making fun of me? Because I have both versions?"

"No, I genuinely love this movie." He holds it up for Dean to see. "So, _Sabrina_?"

* * *

Maybe he's not making fun of him.

And Dean does love that movie. Sure, action and guns and blood is a total guy thing, and he loves _Terminator_, and _Aliens,_ and _Indiana Jones_. But he loves _Sabrina_ too. Can't help himself. It's all Ellen's fault anyway.

"Yeah, ok, we can watch that."

Cas smiles at him, and moves across the den, once again looking at the rows of pictures on Dean's mantle. Dean finishes loading the dishwasher and powers it on. He then gets the berries and Zabaglione from the fridge. There's a bottle of champagne in there that's left over from New Year's. He doesn't know why, but he thinks now is a good time to open it.

Cas comes back to the kitchen, and leans against the counter while he watches Dean put the berries in a bowl.

"So who's the dark haired kid in a bunch of the pictures with you? Pretty sure I've figured everyone else out."

"Oh. Um. That's, that's my son, Ben. He's fifteen." Cas looks surprised. "His mom and I had a thing, long time ago. She found out she was pregnant, and you know…anyway, we were going to get married, but it didn't work out. She's happier with Vic than she would have been with me anyway. And we're all still friends. So. Anyway." _Way to babble your way through that, hotshot._

"He looks like you," Cas says simply. "Same pretty eyes, but darker hair."

"Um. Thanks. He's a great kid, really smart. Like, he's smart like Sam and Adam are smart."

"I don't think you give yourself enough credit, Dean. You seem pretty smart to me." Cas draws closer, getting right up in Dean's personal space. He reaches around Dean, plucking a strawberry from the bowl. He dips in in the custard and brings it up to Dean's lips. "Want a taste?" he whispers, his voice a husky growl.

Dean feels a wave of heat sweep through him, curling dark and intense in his belly. Cas's eyes are boring into his, and he wants to just close what little distance is left between them and kiss him. Instead, he opens his lips without a word, and lets Castiel slip the berry into his mouth.

He's rewarded with a pleased smile, and Cas takes the bottle of champagne and two glasses off the counter, then turns away, making his way back to the den.

Dean gets the berries and the custard and follows him, hands slightly shaking.

* * *

Castiel watches as Dean slips the DVD into the player, then sits down next to him.

He's very quiet, watching the TV as the movie begins, seemingly lost in his own thoughts. Castiel opens the champagne and fills the glasses, then hands one to Dean, who takes it absently. Castiel frowns.

"Are you ok? You seem upset."

A funny look crosses Dean's face.

"I'm not upset…I'm…confused."

"About?"

"Honestly? You. You're confusing me."

"In what way?"

"The flirting. You've been doing it most of the day, and I don't know what to make of it. It's confusing."

"I'm interested in you. That's why I'm flirting. What's so confusing about that?"

"Interested in me how?"

"The usual way."

"So sex? You want sex? That's what you're looking for?"

"Aren't you?"

Dean face turns red, but it's not a blush, it's more like the anger Castiel witnessed earlier in the day, when he'd insulted the man and made the offer on the Impala.

"Look. Until you showed up here today and started messing with my head, I thought I was completely straight. I mean, sure, there's the whole Harrison Ford thing, and Hugh Jackman, and goddamn Dr. Sexy, but I've always been with chicks, and I'm thirty-fucking-four, way too damn old to do the one night stand thing anymore, and I want a relationship, not a fling, but my last relationship crashed and burned, so I'm pretty freaked about the whole thing to begin with, not to mention you're a guy, a really good looking guy, but still a guy, and I don't…"

Castiel kisses him. He wants Dean to shut the hell up already, so he kisses him. He can feel Dean's resistance, the tension in the set of his shoulders, and he knows Dean's about to pull away, so he wraps his hand around Dean's neck and pulls him in closer, deepening the kiss.

He can feel it the second Dean's body relaxes into his, the other man's lips opening, and he sweeps his tongue inside, mapping out every inch of his mouth, running his tongue against those sinfully plush and perfect lips.

When he finally does pull away, Dean's breathless, staring at Castiel with wide eyes, bright green just a ring around the outside now, pupils dilated by the rush of the kiss. Castiel is still close, still has Dean in his arms.

"You talk too much," he says simply, moving in to kiss Dean again.

This time, there's no resistance, Dean opens up to him, moaning softly into the kiss, kissing him back, hands sweeping up Castiel's back, pulling him in closer. This time, it's Dean's tongue in his mouth, tasting every inch of him, and Castiel's desire grows, and he'd like nothing more than to lay Dean down on this couch and explore every part of him.

They break away again, both breathing heavy, and Dean's face is flushed and beautiful. He snatches the glass of champagne off the coffee table, draining it in two gulps.

* * *

Dean stares at Cas, doesn't even know what to say or do because all he can think, all he can hear his brain screaming at him is _you just kissed a dude!_

Cas is looking at him expectantly, and Dean doesn't know what to say. He is so confused. His body is clearly interested, but his stomach is roiling, and his emotions are so twisted he doesn't even know how to begin sorting them out.

The man next to him seems to sense his discomfort and moves away slightly, helping himself to the berries and custard, watching the movie quietly. He seems to realize that Dean needs time to sort himself out, and for that, he's very grateful.

He refills his glass and drains it twice more, Cas still saying nothing, and between the wine he drank earlier, and the champagne, Dean's starting to feel that tingle in his brain. Yeah, he's a little buzzed alright.

Cas isn't watching him, and isn't demanding answers, but Dean feels like he deserves them anyway. He shuts the movie off.

"Um. My last relationship ended really badly. She was a rich Daddy's girl that wanted more than I could give her, but I was in love, or at least I thought so, so I did my damn best to give her everything she wanted. Spent five months' pay on a ring I couldn't afford, but I thought she was worth it. Hell, I bought this house thinking we would raise our damn kids in it. I couldn't meet all her needs though, and we starting growing further and further apart, but she was still living here with me. I went to Carlisle, Pennsylvania for a Super Chevy show, and while I was there, I decided I was going to leave early, and come home and try and work things out. I'd just lost my Dad three months before, and I didn't want to lose her too, y'know? Yeah, well I guess I came home too early. Found her fucking one of my best friends in my own fucking bed."

Cas says nothing, but pats Dean's knee, and Dean blinks away the sting in his eyes. He's not going to fucking cry, goddammit.

"So, yeah, I'm a little gun shy right now, and you come in, and everything's twisted around and upside down, and I don't know what I'm doing here. I like you, Cas, I like you a lot, but I can't just…I won't. I'm not going to put myself out there just to get shot down again, and if all you want is sex, well, I'm sorry, that's not something I'm willing to give you."

* * *

Dean's eyes are bright, he looks so shattered, and it's all Castiel can do to keep him from sweeping Dean up in his arms and making promises of forever, but he won't lie to the man. Dean deserves better than that.

"Honestly? I am interested in more than just sex. I like you Dean, I like you a lot. I can't promise that we're heading for a relationship or whatever, but I can tell you I'd like to see you again after today. You're hot as hell, and you've been making me crazy since I came through your front door this morning. I've been wanting to kiss you all damn day."

Dean shifts on the couch, a smile teasing the corners of his lips. Castiel sees it as an invitation, and moves in closer.

"Can I kiss you again?" he growls in Dean's ear.

"Yes," Dean says, but doesn't give Castiel the chance, practically climbing in his lap and slamming their lips together.

Castiel shifts slightly on the couch, grabbing Dean's hips and pulling him in closer so that Dean's fully seated on his lap, then grabs the hem of Dean's shirt and pulls it up and off, exposing his back and shoulders. Castiel sweeps his hands up the smooth skin and knobs of his spine, his hands finally settling on Dean's broad shoulders, pulling the man in even closer.

He can feel Dean's erection rubbing against his through their pants, and he thrusts his hips upward. Dean's reaction is beautiful, he gasps in surprise, then drives his hips down into Castiel's. They're both breathless, Dean trailing open mouthed kisses down Castiel's neck, Castiel finding Dean's ear lobe and sucking it into his mouth.

"Dean," he gasps, "Dean!"

Dean sits up and stares at him, his cheeks red, pupils dilated with arousal. He's beautiful and Castiel wants him in every sense of the word.

"Yeah, Cas?" he asks hoarsely.

"Show me your bedroom?"

Dean smiles, slides gracefully off of Castiel's lap. He grabs the glasses and the champagne off the coffee table and turns away, waltzing out of the den, his hips swaying, his entire posture screaming pure sex, and Castiel is off the couch faster than he can think, catching up to Dean at the stairwell, and practically pushing him up the steps.

* * *

Dean's not even sure how they make it to his room in one piece, but he's on the bed, and Cas is doing his best to get his jeans off.

He lifts his hips for Cas, and the man slides his jeans down, then his boxers, and Dean's laying naked in the middle of his bed. Castiel grins, then ducks his head, and starts kissing a trail up Dean's leg, starting at his ankle, slowly moving up to his inner thigh. Dean's squirming, his breath coming in harsh little grunts and gasps, anticipating where Cas's mouth will end up next.

There's hot breath on his groin, then Cas's mouth is traveling north, leaving sweet little kisses and bites in its wake, and Dean feels like he's coming apart.

Cas's mouth finds his, and Dean moans into a deep kiss, Cas attacking his mouth until he can hardly breath, Dean gasping for air when they finally separate.

"Cas…Cas…I've never done this before…I don't…"

Cas silences him with another deep kiss. "Don't worry," he whispers, "I've got you. I'll take care of you." Cas sits up, and Dean's treated to watching him unbutton his shirt, then removing it with Dean's help, both of their hands everywhere, and Dean undoes his fly and slips the navy blue pants off of Cas's runner's body, slim but well built, and he can't keep his hands off of Cas's hips, boldly leaning down to suck his mark onto the nub of bone.

Then Cas is flipping him on his back again, and lining them up, his cock tucked in snuggly next to Dean's. Cas is kissing him again, and Dean's drowning in sensation, his skin hyper-sensitive as Cas gets a steady rhythm going, and all of Dean's worry and nervousness melts away until the only thing he's aware of is the gorgeous man kissing him and pushing him closer and closer to orgasm, and when Dean does come, he's breathless, shaking, and Cas kisses him through it, coming only a few seconds after Dean.

After, he's vaguely aware of Cas cleaning him up, and pulling him back into his arms, kissing him sweetly and whispering sweet adorations in his ear. He's drifting off to sleep before he's even fully realized what's happened, and he's warm, content, and sated.


	6. Sexiest Chef Alive

Castiel wakes slowly, a faint beeping noise coming from somewhere nearby. He's warm and comfortable, and that beeping sound is really pissing him off.

There was a warm arm wrapped tightly around his waist, and a broad chest pressed against his back, warm puffs of breath lifting the hair on his neck. He smiles, and carefully extricates himself from Dean's grip. Reaching down, he feels along the floor until he finds his pants, yanking his cell from the pocket, quickly flipping it to silent as he reads the message.

_I can only assume you stayed at Mr. Winchester's last night, as you're not in your room. I have plenty to say about the insanity of your having done so, but right now, it's vital you get your ass to KC to catch the plane. You have an event tonight in NYC. I'm sending a car, it will be there by 7, and you had best be waiting. Flight leaves at 9:30. _

_-BR_

Castiel checks the time. It's 6:10 a.m. which means he has just enough time to take a quick shower. He rolls over, intent on waking Dean, but the other man looks so peaceful, he can't bring himself to do it. Gently running a hand through Dean's hair, he lays a soft kiss on his forehead. Dean makes a little sound of contentment, and a half smile graces his handsome face.

Pulling himself out of bed, Castiel sighs as he gathers his clothing, then makes his way to Dean's bathroom. He enjoys an almost scalding hot shower, washing with the shampoo and body wash Dean uses, enjoying the smell of coconut he had smelled on his lover the night before. He dries himself off quickly, and dresses, then heads back into Dean's room. Finding a notepad on Dean's dresser, he writes a quick note, then grabs Dean's phone off the nightstand and programs his own number into it.

Crawling back into the bed for a moment, he leans over and kisses Dean on the lips, again smiling at the little noises he makes in his sleep, regret filling him that he couldn't stay and make Dean breakfast. Leaving the note on the pillow, he quietly makes his way out of the room, stopping one last time at the door to take in the image of Dean as he shifts onto his belly, face turned to the side, arms wrapped around the pillow, the sheets puddled around his waist, glorious expanse of freckled back exposed for his viewing pleasure.

He sighs, and leaves the room, quietly shutting the door behind him, then makes his way down the stairs. While he waits for the car, he quickly cleans up the mess they had left on the coffee table the night before, carefully rinsing and stacking the dishes next to Dean's sink.

There's a honk outside, and he leaves the house, making sure Dean's front door locks behind him. The driver holds the door of the black SUV open for him. He slides inside, taking one last look at Dean's house, praying it won't be the last time he sees it.

* * *

Dean wakes slowly, reaching for Cas, who isn't there.

He blinks all the way awake, disappointed to find himself alone. He rolls onto his back, staring at the ceiling fan. Dammit, he's been had. Cas had said he wasn't interested in a one night stand, but he was gone, and Dean was alone.

_Dammit. I'm a fucking idiot. _

Rolling to the side, he comes face to face with a piece of paper, folded in half, his name scrawled on it. He picks it up and opens it.

_Dear Dean,_

_I am so sorry I had to bail, but Balthazar reminded me that I have an event in NY tonight, and I had to leave in order to make my flight. I didn't want to leave, believe me. I considered waking you up, but you looked so peaceful lying there, and I couldn't stand the thought of interrupting your dreams. I definitely want to see you again, and soon. I took the liberty of programming my number into your phone, and I'll call you when I land at JFK. _

_I miss you already,_

_Cas_

Dean reads it twice, then, grinning like an idiot, he picks up his phone. Scrolling through the numbers, he comes across a listing for _Sexiest Chef Alive_. He laughs out loud, his unhappiness at waking alone gone. Hopping out of bed, grabbing fresh jeans and a Stones tee out of his armoire, clean boxers from the dresser, Dean's whistling on his way to the shower.

An hour later, he's sitting at the table, reading emails on his laptop, a steaming cup of coffee in hand, when the doorbell rings.

Sam and Adam are standing on the other side of the door, covered head to toe in blue and red.

"What the hell? You're not even dressed!" Sam groans, running a hand through his shaggy mop.

"Dude, I told you. You owe me twenty, big brother!" Adam grins at Sam, who's rolling his hazel eyes.

"What are you clowns doing here? And what did you bet on?"

Adam pulls on the brim of his KU hat, still grinning, his blue eyes sparkling. "I bet him twenty bucks that you'd forget and we'd get here and you wouldn't be ready to go. Sad thing is, you bought the tickets, moron."

A switch finally flips in Dean's brain. "Oh crap! We're supposed to go to Manhattan for the game! Shoot! I did forget!"

"No kidding," Sam says drily, then looks intently at Dean. "Dude. Did you get laid last night?"

"What? What are you talking about?"

Now Adam's looking too. "Yeah, actually, you do have that freshly fucked glow."

They both grin evilly at him.

"Also, since you need to change into appropriate hometown-supporting gear, do you think Adam and I could come in, instead of hanging out on your porch like unwanted guests?"

Adam snickers, and Dean levels a death glare at Sam.

"Fine. I'll go change." He turns to head up the stairs, then turns and yells into the kitchen. "Stay out of my fridge, you apes!" He hears laughter and rolls his eyes.

Ten minutes later, with his little brothers arms full of _his_ snacks and sodas, Dean is behind the wheel of the Impala, even though Sam did his damn best to convince him that his BMW M-5 is the better choice for the trip. Dean had ignored him and gotten in his own car, tickets secured in his KU hoodie, so if they wanted to go to the game, they had to get in his car.

He shoves Metallica's _Master of Puppets_ into the tape deck, and his brothers groan loudly.

"Shut it, bitches! Driver picks the music…"

"SHOTGUN SHUTS THEIR CAKEHOLE!" his brothers yell loudly, cutting him off.

"Well, at least you got that right." Dean pulls the Impala onto 70 West, towards Topeka and Manhattan.

He thinks about Cas, and smiles, leans back into his seat, and enjoys the drive.

* * *

Scrolling through his phone, Castiel finds and selects the listing for _World's Sexiest Mechanic._

Balthazar is going on and on about something, but Castiel's tuned him out, and instead is mentally replaying the night before, a smile on his face. He can still feel Dean's hands on him, taste his delicious lips, smell the coconut on his skin. He'd give anything to be back in Kansas right that second, if just for another kiss.

He wants very much to call him, but he's not going to do it with nosy-ass Balthazar in the car with him, who's already asked some very pointed questions about what happened after him and the girls left Dean's house. So far, Castiel's managed to avoid answering them, hiding behind his signature Ray Bans and complaining of a non-existent headache.

It's noon now, and he has five hours to relax before he has to be at a benefit for Share Our Strength, Food Network's signature charity. He really doesn't want to go, but Castiel is expected to be there, so he'll show up, talk to some of his friends, then quietly disappear.

Castiel's never been so grateful to see his building, and he grabs his overnight bag, anxious to make his escape and call Dean.

"Remember, car will be here at 5:30 for you. Don't miss it, or I swear, I'll kill you myself."

"You have a lovely Saturday too, Balthie."

"I mean it, Cassie!"

Castiel waves absently behind him, yanking open the door to his building without so much as a backward glance at Balthazar.

He's got a phone call to make.

* * *

Dean cheered as the batter for KU smacked a long drive into center field, sending the runners on second and third into home, scoring two runs. KU was now leading K State by three points.

Sam, Adam, and Dean were sitting in a sea of red and blue KU fans, matched nearly equally by the purple and white of the K State fans. Kansas University and Kansas State had a long running but friendly rivalry. The brothers made it a point to catch as many games as possible between the two schools, loudly rooting for their hometown team.

The day was warm, and Dean had stripped off his hoodie, and it had somehow ended up in Adam's seat, which is why he didn't hear his phone when it rang. Unfortunately for him, Adam did.

"_Sexiest Chef Alive_? What the hell, Dean?"

Dean's face turned fire engine red, and he made a mad grab for the phone, but Sam snatched it out of Adam's hand, reading the Caller ID screen, a huge grin on his face.

"Oh wow. You totally did get laid last night! And by your ultimate man-crush, Chef Castiel! Oh, that's priceless, that's just friggin' priceless!"

"Give me my phone, Bitchsquatch!"

Ignoring Dean completely, Sam clicked the answer button.

"Hello, Dean Winchester's phone." He listened for a minute, still smiling like an idiot. "Oh, you want to talk to Dean? He's busy at the moment." Sam winked at Adam, who was laughing hysterically, as Dean leaned over him, scrabbling to get his phone from Sam.

"GIVE. ME. MY. PHONE!" he growled, reaching for the cell, but Sam just moved further out of his reach, much to the annoyance of the lady sitting next to him, who loudly yelled at him, providing just the distraction Dean needed to get his phone, snatching it out of Sam's hand with a look of triumph. He stood, and glared at his brothers.

"Asshats!" he growled, heading off for a quieter section of the stadium to talk to Cas. "Sorry about that," he said into the phone, "my brothers are idiots."

* * *

"Aren't little brothers supposed to be idiots?"

Dean laughs over the phone, his voice warm and rich.

"_Yeah, I guess that's in the job description. You're a little brother. Did you make it a point to annoy your siblings?"_

"Of course. It's the natural order."

Dean laughs again.

"So, what are you doing today, gorgeous?"

"_I'm in Manhattan at a ball game with Thing 1 and Thing 2."_

"Manhattan? You got here before I did!"

"_Haha, silly, there's a Manhattan in Kansas. K State vs. KU. It's a big hometown rivalry thing. What are you doing?"_

"Laying naked in my bed, wishing you were here." Castiel smiles at the little breathy sound Dean makes on the other end of the line.

"_Yeah…wish I was there, too."_

"I just got home about an hour ago. I was still wearing the clothes from yesterday, so I took them off and decided not to get redressed. I was thinking about you. I used your body wash this morning and my skin smells like yours. I was touching myself and wishing it was your hands instead of mine."

Dean coughs, and there's a rustle, like he's moving.

"_Cas. Dude, I'm at a ballgame. With a boner. I can't do this at a ballgame."_

"Find a bathroom," Castiel growls.

"_Cas…"_ There's more rustling, and the sound of a toilet flushing, and Castiel smiles. _"Ok, I found a bathroom,_" Dean whispers, "_but I'm not alone in here._"

"Well, then, I guess you'll have to keep quiet. All you have to do is listen. All the things I want to do to you, god Dean, you can't even imagine. The things I'm going to do to you next time I see you. I'm going to undress you slow, take my time, slide your clothes off your body, trail my tongue over every inch of your skin, trace the lines of your hips with my fingers..." Castiel trails off, listening to Dean's breathing get rough on the other end of the line. He's got a steady rhythm of his own going, and if he's quiet, he can hear the soft sound of Dean's hand on his own flesh.

"_Cas,"_ Dean softly whimpers, the sound going right to Castiel's already hyper-sensitive dick, and he comes all over his hand but keeps talking to Dean.

"I'm going to lay you out on the bed, and kiss and touch every inch of you. Then, I'm going to wrap my lips around you, suck you all the way down, let you fuck my mouth until you're squirming and…"

"_Cas!"_ Dean gasps, followed by a soft bitten off moan. "_Christ. Christ. I can't believe I just did that_," he whispers breathlessly. "_Holy fuck_."

"Be looking for a package from me on Monday. Enjoy the rest of the game."

"_Wait, that's it?"_

"Yeah, you have a game to get back to. Call you later, Dean." Castiel hangs up before Dean can say another word, and a minute later, his phone beeps with a text message.

_That was…fun. ;-) Talk to you later. Maybe I'll return the favor._

_-D_

"Hmm, maybe you will," Castiel says with a smile, and heads to the bathroom to clean up.

* * *

It takes him a minute to calm down enough to go back out to where Sam and Adam are sitting, still watching the game.

He's still feeling a little breathless as he slips back into his seat, and Sam and Adam are both staring at him, but don't say anything.

Nope, they save that until they're in the car, on 70, then they ambush him.

"Sooooooo…" Sam begins.

"So what?" Dean pushes _Houses of the Holy_ into the tape deck, humming along with _The Song Remains the Same_.

"So how was that whole cooking thing yesterday? Did you have fun?"

Dean can hear the tease in Adam's voice, and Sam's staring at him expectantly.

"Can we just go home, please?"

"Nope. Spill, jerk."

"Bite me, bitch."

"I suspect Chef Castiel did that already." Adam and Sam laugh hysterically, and Dean glares at the road, refusing to give them the satisfaction of a reply. Dean's planning on ignoring them the whole way home if necessary. He turns the radio up a little louder.

"Dean," Sam calls over Robert Plant's wailing vocals. Dean scowls, and doesn't answer, so Sam reaches over and shuts off the radio.

"Hey!"

"Well, we need to talk."

"Nothing to talk about."

"Sure there is."

"Nope."

"Yup," Adam chimes in.

"You two suck."

"Seriously," Sam begins, "you've had this happy little grin on your face all day, and the dude called you. You're seeing him right?"

"So what if I am?"

"It's awesome, Dean. Sam and I are happy for you. We both know things haven't been easy since, well, you know…"

"Don't go there, Adam."

"Ok, but seriously. It's ok if you like a dude. That's not the problem here, right?" Oh Christ, Sam's giving him the puppy dog eyes, the Stanford activist shining through.

"I'm a little freaked by the whole thing to be honest."

"Why?" Sam asks, "you've always liked guys, too."

"No I haven't!" This earns him an outright laugh from both of them.

"Harrison Ford," says Adam.

"Hugh Jackman," adds Sam.

"DR. SEXY!" they both yell together. Dean rolls his eyes and resists the urge to slam his head into the steering wheel.

"I hate both of you. Does everybody know this? Was I the last one to know? Because I was caught completely off guard yesterday."

"Um, yeah, Dean, we've all pretty much known forever."

"And neither one of you thought it might be a good idea to fill me in?"

"You didn't ask," Adam says simply.

A silence falls over the car, and Dean drives on, lost in his own thoughts.

* * *

God, he hates these things.

Bobby's here though, with his wife, Stephanie, and he'd just finished discussing a recent trip Mario Batali took to Italy with his former boss himself. He sees some other people he'd like to talk to, but he's actually more interested in getting home and calling Dean back.

Castiel simply cannot stop thinking about him.

"So," Bobby asks, sidling up next to him, martini in hand, "you doing Napa in May?"

"Yup. Balthazar says I have to."

"Looks like it's going to be a lot of fun this year. Alton's confirmed, so have Mike Symon, and Fieri. Might see Giada too."

"So the usual suspects."

Bobby laughs at this, and runs a hand through his red hair. Castiel smiles at his friend, taking in the freckles that remind him of Dean, and there he goes, thinking about the man again.

"How was that thing yesterday? The contest shoot you had to do?"

"It went fine. The guy who won was actually fairly knowledgeable, and had a very nice kitchen. I actually had a lot of fun."

"Sounds good. Hey, there's Tyler, I have to talk to him. See you in Napa, if not before."

"You got it." Castiel drains his champagne, says hello to a few more people, then quietly makes his way out. His car and driver are waiting for him, and he slips inside, glad to be done with the benefit, already untying his bowtie.

He lets himself into his loft, glad to be home, stripping off parts of his tux as he makes his way into the bedroom, already scrolling through the numbers on his phone for Dean's. He lies down on his bed, more tired than he realized, listening to the ring tone.

"_Hey, Cas."_

"Hello, Dean."


	7. That's Family for You

They talked until well past 2:00 am.

They talked about everything, about what they wanted to be when they grew up (Dean wanted to be a firefighter, Cas a veterinarian or a snowflake, and Dean laughed about that for a solid five minutes), they talked about their dreams for the future, their proudest moments (Cas opening the restaurant, Dean holding Ben for the first time), they talked about politics, and music, classic cars, favorite foods, most embarrassing moments, childhood heroes, TV shows, movies, stupid people, annoying things their siblings did, literally anything they could think of.

Dean shared his relationship history, the long string of worthless one nights, and how except for Lisa and Jo, every serious relationship he's ever had crashed and burned, Lisa and Jo just fading into friendship. He told Cas how scared he was of where things were going now, that he was afraid to open up and fall again. How confusing it was to be so attracted to a guy instead of a girl.

Cas in turn shared what happened in LA, even telling Dean the celeb's name, and Dean agreed the guy was hot and was worth making a pass at. He told him how much he missed his parents, how guilty he felt that he hadn't spent more time with them. They talked about how short time really is in the long run, which is why, Dean told him, that he was willing to take this chance, because time _was_ just so damn short, and if they had a chance to be happy, they should just go for it.

Dean learned more about Cas in five hours than he did about his ex-fiancé in the almost three years they were together.

He yawned so hard at one point, he thought he might break his jaw, but he wasn't getting off the phone. They didn't do anything naughty, they just talked, and it was one of the best nights Dean could remember having. They finally disconnected when Cas literally fell asleep mid-sentence.

He's sitting at Ben's baseball game now, at 1:00 pm on a sunny Sunday afternoon, Lisa sitting next to him, dark hair tied up in a ponytail, brown eyes sparkling, sharing her popcorn with Dean while Vic takes pictures. Ben's on fire, he's pitched a six inning no-hitter, and his team is up by seven runs. He's only in tenth grade, but Dean knows there are already college scouts looking at his boy, and he couldn't be prouder.

"He's amazing, isn't he? The pitcher?" The guy next to him says, and Dean beams.

"That's my son," he says proudly, and the guy congratulates him with a smile. Lisa grins at him and he grins back.

Ben throws another pitch, a low fast ball, and the kid at the plate strikes out. That's the third strike, and Ben's team heads for the bench, the other team taking the field.

"So," Lisa begins, "Ben called Sam for Calculus help last night."

"That's good, Sam's smart with that stuff."

"Mm-hmm. Then Sam wanted to talk to me. About you. Any idea what he wanted to tell me?"

Dean drops his head into his hands and mumbles, "I can only imagine."

"Rumor has it the legendary Dean Winchester is off the market." She giggles. Victor leans over her shoulder.

"Come on, Leese, leave the guy alone."

"I just want to know if it's true, because I was going to set you up with somebody."

"It's true. Can we drop it?"

"Sure, for now. But you'll want to tell Ben that you're dating again. I don't want him surprised."

"Right…that should be interesting."

"Why? Because it's a guy this time?"

Dean groaned. "Does Sam get off on spreading my personal life around? I'm going to kill him, I swear."

Lisa patted his shoulder. "That's family for you. However, I can report that you've been grinning like an idiot most of the day, and you don't seem all that put out. Dean, we're your family, and we all just want to see you happy. No one's out to get you, or embarrass you…"

Vic coughed "bullshit" under his breath.

"…well not really! I mean, we're all just really happy for you. Just, you need to tell Ben. Ok?"

Dean shakes his head. "Yeah, ok, I'll take care of it. Now can we just watch the game? Please?"

"Yeah, I'll back off." Lisa turns her attention back to her popcorn, and for a little while at least, Dean watches the game in peace.

"So what's he like?"

* * *

Castiel spends his morning sleeping in, dreams of a green-eyed man keeping him company.

When he finally does get up, he takes his time in the shower, then eats a simple meal of cheese, grapes and crusty French bread. He flips through the Times for a while, then watches a bit of CNN.

He's thinking about Dean the entire time. Logging on to his computer, he makes sure the item he ordered will be at Dean's business tomorrow, clicking on the Winchester and Sons Ltd. website to verify the address for the hundredth time.

Scanning through the pictures on the site, he's impressed by the work the shop turns out, and he's already decided his first classic car will come from them. There's pictures of the staff on the site; Ash, the webmaster and graphic designer, a skinny guy in a plaid shirt with the sleeves cut off, an unbelievable mullet on his head; Garth, the shop's paint guy and master of old school pin striping, another skinny young guy in plaid, spiky blonde hair messy and all over the place; Benny, the shop foreman, a good looking man with bright blue eyes, wearing an old fashioned black sailor's hat; Jo, the office manager, a gorgeous blonde with deep brown eyes; and of course, Dean himself, green-eyed, freckled and beautiful.

There's also a picture and dedication page for John Winchester, a ruggedly handsome man with a salt and pepper scruff and kind eyes. From what Castiel has seen of Dean's family pictures, Sam looks more like his dad than Dean does, but he can definitely see a resemblance. Castiel spends maybe an hour or so trolling the website, admiring the before and after pictures of many different cars.

A knock at the door makes Castiel jump slightly, and he looks at the time, surprised that it's after three. Gabe's on the other side of the door, grin on his face, lollipop hanging out of the side of his mouth.

"What's shakin', lil bro?" he asks, leaning against the doorway. "How was your weekend?"

Castiel holds the door to let him in, a smile on his own face. Gabriel is more than just his brother, he's one of his dearest friends, and he's always glad to see him.

"I had a good weekend. How was yours?"

"Fine, although we were busy as hell at the restaurant last night. All the reservations were filled, and we still had a line out the door. Cray-zay! Probably be just as bad tonight, so I can't stay long. Taking Kali to a Yanks game tomorrow. So damn glad we're closed on Mondays." He plops into Castiel's cream linen sofa, sprawling out like he owns the place, and like he's exhausted from the long shift when it hasn't even begun yet.

"I knew right from the beginning that we should be closed at least one day a week. Monday made the best sense."

"Well it was a good choice. So, tell me about "Land O' Rednecks". Was Kansas as bad as you thought it would be?"

Castiel smiles, remember just how good Kansas had turned out to be. "It was fine. The man that won was actually fairly knowledgeable, had a nice kitchen, there was even a decent grocery store. It was nice, actually."

Gabe's studying him closely, looking for clues.

"Nice, huh? A guy won? Tell me about him." Gabe waggles his eyebrows suggestively. "Was he good looking?"

"Very. And we have a lot in common." He grins again, figures Gabriel might as well be the first to know. "His name is Dean, and we're seeing each other."

"Christ! You work damn fast there, lil bro. He must be something special."

Castiel gets his laptop off the dining room table and brings it over to Gabe, and shows him the screen where Dean's face is still displayed on the Winchester and Sons website. Gabe studies the picture for a minute, then looks up at Castiel, amusement on his face.

"He is something special, Gabe, you have no idea."

* * *

Monday finds Dean head and shoulders in a '55 Chevy Bel Air, fighting with one lousy bolt that's rusted solid to the block and holding up the whole operation.

Benny's liberally spraying the whole thing down with WD-40, and Dean tries again to wrench the damn thing free.

"We gonna have'ta drill it out, brotha. She ain't movin'."

Dean sighs, and runs his hand through his hair, frustrated as hell. The car's for an extremely demanding client, who pays well, but expects things done at a certain time. He takes most of the cars Winchester and Sons builds for him to the Barrett Jackson auctions, and it's been a huge boost for the shop.

Crowley's a tough customer, and Dean doesn't want to let any customer down, but Crowley's special, and this car has to be perfect.

"Dammit. Alright, see what you can do with it. I've got to get that engine out today so Garth can get it into paint. It's got to be mostly done by mid-week, 'cause Crowley's coming for it Monday."

"I'll get it out of there, don't you worry none." Benny bends back over the engine, and Dean heads for the office, wiping his hands on a rag as he goes. There's a stack of messages on his desk from Friday, when he took off to do the show with Cas, several of which are from new clients. Dean's backlogged about four months now, and he's got quite the waiting list. It's amazing to him that people like the shop's work enough to wait that long to get a car done. It's part of why he puts up with Crowley's demands. The man has brought in a ton of business for them this year.

He's going to have to hire more people. They just bought the building next door so they can expand. Business is booming, and Dean's damn grateful. He's pretty sure Ben's going to get some kind of scholarship for college, because not only is he a star on the ball field, he's a damn good student as well. Lisa wouldn't have it any other way, but still, Dean wants to have the money available if he needs it, and when Adam graduates in a few years, he wants to make a repeat of the Hawaii trip, just Adam, Sam and him.

Jo comes in, arms full of packages and drops an envelope on his desk. She grins and winks.

"Hear you had a pretty good weekend."

"What the fuck? There is no privacy in this damn family. Friggin' Sam."

"Actually, no, Adam called me." She giggles. "But you're right. There's no privacy. Also, I'm happy for you." A sincere smile and she's on her way, and Dean picks up the envelope.

It's from Cas.

* * *

Castiel is on his way to the studio to film an episode of _A Little Taste of Heaven _when his phone rings, "World's Sexiest Mechanic" flashing in the caller ID screen.

"Hello, Dean," he says with a smile.

"_Plane tickets to New York for this coming weekend? Not very subtle there, Chef."_

"Subtlety is for other people. I prefer the direct approach."

"_I see that. Gotta tell you though, Cas, I seriously hate flying."_

"I know, I do remember you telling me that. But it's first class, so you'll be comfortable, and I hired a car to pick you up, so you won't have to worry about the Impala sitting in Kansas City all weekend. I thought you could come up, have dinner at the restaurant, maybe do some other stuff. If it makes you that uncomfortable…"

"_No, man, for you, I'll do it. First class, huh? They'll have alcohol. I'll be ok. It's not as long as flying to Hawaii and I survived that."_

Castiel smiles, glad that his gift was well received. He simply can't wait for this weekend.

"_So should I bring a suit or something? Your restaurant's pretty fancy, right?"_

"I'd love to see you in a suit, so yes. But bring jeans and comfortable stuff for the other days."

"_Please tell me you're not going to drag me to see Wicked or something like that?"_

"Would you like me too?"

"_Um. I don't know."_

"'Cause I could get tickets."

"_Might be kind of cool,"_ Dean mumbles.

"Or we could do something else. We could spend the whole weekend in bed if we wanted to."

Dean coughs, and Castiel grins. Dean's so deliciously easy to knock off balance he could make a game of it.

"_Well, there's that too,"_ he says huskily.

"Have you ever been to New York before?"

"_One time, like nine months ago. I um…I um, saved up, and um…wenttoyourrestaurant."_ He says it so quickly, Castiel almost misses it.

"You've been to the restaurant before?"

"_Yeah, it was no big deal, it was the same weekend as that stupid Super Chevy show, and I left a few days early and went up to New York before I went to Carlisle and had dinner but you weren't working and I was really disappointed, but damn, the food was amazing. Best dinner I've ever had."_

"You've been following my show a long time then?"

"_Yeah, actually, since the first episode. I don't know if you saw them when you were here, but I have all of your cookbooks."_ He sounds so shy when he says it, and Castiel can practically hear him blushing. There's a noise, and some raised voices in the background, then Dean's back on the line. _"Hey, Cas, I gotta go, one of my clients is here for a pickup. Talk to you later tonight?"_

"I'll be home after seven. Call anytime. I miss you."

"_Miss you too, Cas. See you soon."_ Dean disconnects the call, and Castiel smiles, staring off into the distance, thinking about the weekend, and what he could do with their time. He wonders if Dean was serious about not wanting to see _Wicked_, but so far, this mechanic has surprised the hell out of him, liking movies like _Sabrina_, and he thinks he'll risk it. He calls Sarah, and she agrees to get tickets for Saturday afternoon.

He's a bundle of smiles by the time he arrives at the studio, and Charlie grins knowingly at him.

Even Balthazar's surly mood can't touch him.

* * *

Dean's exhausted by the time he gets home that night.

It was a long, long day. Crowley's Chevy is going to give him nightmares. If it wasn't for the almost limitless budget the man provides, he'd have been tempted to turn the project away. Benny and Dean had stayed until well past eight, trying to completely pull the drive train so Garth could get the car into paint. It had been unbelievably frustrating, that car wouldn't budge an inch, and they both had the bruised knuckles to show for it.

Dean finally said enough, and sent Benny home to Andrea. He'd stayed an hour beyond that before he finally called it quits. It's nine now, and he still has a stack of employment applications an inch thick in his laptop bag, and he desperately needs dinner and a shower, in that order, but he doesn't think he'll be able to stay on his feet long enough to accomplish either.

In the end, he simply cleans up as much as possible and passes out on the couch.

He never did get around to calling Cas back.

The phone rings around 10:30, and Dean actually falls off the couch as he scrambles for it. He smacks his head on the coffee table and groans as he answers the phone, groggily mumbling a hello.

"_Hello, Dean. Are you ok?"_

"Cas?"

"_Yeah, it's me."_

"I think I was asleep. Had a rough day. I'm sorry I didn't call you." Dean's stomach growls. "Christ, I'm hungry. Passed out on the couch without dinner. Haven't eaten since noon."

"_That's unfortunate. You should eat, I can let you go."_

"No, no, don't go." Dean pulls himself to his feet, and pads barefoot out to his kitchen. "I'll find something to chomp on, and you can tell me about your day. Hopefully it was better than mine." Dean opens the fridge, and stands there and stares blankly for a moment. He pulls out a Chinese food container, sniffs it, makes a face, and tosses it in the garbage.

"_So what are you eating?"_

"I don't know. I got a whole lot of ingredients and nothing prepared."

"_Got any bread?"_

Dean looks around and finds a loaf of Italian bread left over from the spaghetti dinner he cooked Ben the day before. "Yeah, soft Italian bread."

"_Perfect. Cheese?"_

"Cheddar, mozzarella, and some goat cheese."

"_Balsamic, basil and tomato?"_

"Yup. Which cheese?"

"_Goat." _

"Ok." Dean gathered all the items and dropped them on the counter.

"_Turn your broiler on then cut yourself a couple of one inch thick slices of bread." _

"You teaching me to cook over the phone Chef?"

"_Just helping you out. Can't stand the thought of you going to bed hungry."_

"Aw, that's sweet," Dean grins into the phone.

"_Shut it, Winchester."_

Dean outright laughs at that_. _

"_Slice the goat cheese into medallions, then put them on the bread. Drizzle them with olive oil and cracked pepper and stick 'em under the broiler until the cheese melts."_

"Ok, I can do this." Dean puts the bread on a tray and sticks it under the broiler.

"_Keep a close eye on it, don't let it burn. Burned is not good eats."_

"Ha! Ok, thanks for the advice, Alton."

"_You'd like him. He's a trip."_

Dean chuckles. "Alrighty then Mr. Famous." He pulls the bread out. "That didn't take long. Now what?"

"_Chop up the basil and tomato and stick it on there, drizzle it with balsamic, get some wine and eat up."_

"Ok. I'm out of wine. Beer ok?"

"_How can you be out of wine?"_

"Um, my celebrity boyfriend and I drank it all." Dean rolls that word around in his mouth. He didn't mean to say it, but it felt right.

"_Boyfriend, huh?"_

"Yeah, boyfriend."

"_Hmm, I like that. Well, then, my mechanic boyfriend should go get himself a beer then. And then eat your food while it's still warm. I'm going to let you go. Eat, get a shower, and a good night's sleep. Call you tomorrow?"_

"Yeah, I'd like that. I miss you, Cas."

"_I miss you too, Dean. Friday's going to be here very soon."_

"Can't wait. See you then."

"_Goodnight, Dean."_

"Goodnight, Cas." Dean disconnects the call, and takes his plate and a beer up to his room. The bread is delicious, the beer comforting. Dean finishes, and takes a quick shower, then curls up in his bed.

His phone chimes, and he picks it up.

_Sweet dreams_.

_You too_, he texts back, and sets the phone down on his nightstand.

Dean falls asleep with a smile on his face.


	8. La Vie En Rose

Friday afternoon, Dean's on the plane and gripping the arm rests of his first class seat like his life depends on it.

His hands are shaking, and he's trying very hard to remember the breathing exercises Jess taught him. He's also trying to remember the thing Lisa taught him about picturing a "safe place" but all he can think of is fiery plane crashes.

If he wasn't so desperate to see Cas, he would have already gotten off four times already. And they're still sitting on the ground. When he went to Hawaii with Sam, they took an overnight flight, and Dean popped an Ambien so he'd sleep most of the way. It had been mostly effective.

But this is the middle of the afternoon, and it's only about a three hour flight. So, pharmaceuticals are out. Whiskey, however, that he can do. And he needs it. Dean's had a terrible week at work, Crowley's Chevy turning out to be a bigger bitch than he expected. There was rust under the rear quarter panels, rust in the damn frame, rust eating away the floor boards. He had to call Crowley and tell the man he needed more time.

Thankfully, Crowley had taken the delay with a grain of salt, and didn't even complain about the increase in budget. Makes Dean worry, the man was almost too calm. He's honestly waiting for the other shoe to drop.

The plane starts taxiing down the runway, and Dean's grip on the arm rests tightens. He tries to concentrate on the Metallica rifts drifting out of his earphones but it's just not working. Oh crap, he hates this. His breath is coming in harsh ragged gasps.

_I'm fucking thirty-four years old and I'm about to have a panic attack about a friggin' plane ride. Holy crap. _

Picking up speed, the plane begins the process of takeoff, and Dean can actually feel the blood leave his face. He closes his eyes, refusing to look out of the window, doing his damn best to think of anything but flying. He pictures a Chevy small-block 350, mentally tearing it apart and putting it back together, using his own stubborn will to focus on the engine. Dean's midway through mentally pulling the piston rods when he realizes they've been in the air at least fifteen minutes.

_Hmm. Car parts work. Good to know._

The flight attendants are doing beverage service and he orders a double of Jameson. He's definitely feeling better after, and he relaxes back into the large, cozy leather seat.

_Ok. Maybe I can do this. Think car parts, that's the way to go._

The flight passes fairly quickly, and he's starting to feel like he's conquered his fear.

Then they begin approach.

* * *

It's 7:30 p.m. and Castiel's standing outside the gate, waiting for Dean to come through.

He's beyond excited, and can't wait to get his hands on him. They've spent the last week calling each other whenever they could, Castiel with his phone pressed to his ear whenever he had a break on set. But the real thing is going to be so much better.

Dean's plane has been on the ground for a while, and many people have come through the gate, but still no Dean. Castiel panics slightly. Dean had told him he didn't like flying; maybe the fear won out and he never got on the plane.

Finally, he sees spiky light brown hair through the crowd, and a second later, a white-faced, confused looking Dean is walking through the gate, wearing light blue jeans, a navy Chevrolet shirt, and an olive denim jacket, head on a swivel as he looks through the crowd. There's a slight green pallor beneath the whiteness of his face, he's looking a bit ill.

_Crap_, Castiel thinks, _he looks terrible_.

"Dean!" he calls, and Dean's head whips around, green eyes wide, big grin forming on his face as he sees Castiel. A moment later, and Castiel's got him in his arms, deeply breathing in the scent of coconut as he presses his lips to Dean's neck. He could feel fine tremors running through the other man's body, and he pulled away, looking in Dean's face.

"Are you ok? Did something happen on the flight?"

"I'll be ok. Landing was a little rough, and I got sick. I'll be fine though. Can we please get out of here?"

"Of course. Did you check a bag?"

Dean held up a garment bag and a stuffed backpack. "Nope."

"Ok, then, let's go." He takes the garment bag from Dean, and the other man tosses the backpack over his back. Castiel's tempted to take Dean's hand and lead him out of the airport, but he's not sure if Dean would be comfortable with that yet, so he doesn't. Dean doesn't say anything, but the color is slowly coming back to his face. There's an SUV and driver waiting for them and Castiel holds the door for Dean, watching as he slides gracefully inside.

"I'm glad you're here," Castiel says as they head back into Manhattan on the Van Wyck.

"I'm glad I'm here, too. I'm so damn tired though. Hope you have coffee at your place." Dean leans back in his seat, head tipped back against the head rest. His neck is extended, long and lean, and Castiel can't resist, leaning over to place a soft kiss just below Dean's jaw.

"Mmm," Dean hums, turning his face to the side, gently pressing his lips to Castiel's. "I missed you," he murmurs against Castiel's lips. Castiel hooks a hand behind Dean's head, pulling him in close for a deep, searching kiss, tongue darting out to swipe across Dean's full lips, a wave of desire washing up, and he's pleased when Dean's hands snake upward and tangle in his gray tee.

Dean opens his mouth, his tongue darting out to find Castiel's, mapping out the corners of his mouth. Their tongues tangle together, and Dean moans softly, Castiel's hand in his hair, the other one still wrapped around his neck.

They're breathless when they pull apart, Castiel pleased to see a soft flush dusting Dean's cheekbones. He presses their foreheads together.

"I'm so glad you're here," he whispers softly.

* * *

Cas's loft is airy and open, huge windows looking out over Central park.

Dean's standing at one of the massive windows, looking down at the traffic below. Cas is upstairs, having insisted on taking Dean's bags up. The place is huge, the first floor completely open, painted in soft gray tones, the floor mahogany stained hardwoods. There are pillars, and exposed brick, and everything is black, cream, or gray. His kitchen is state of the art, with a seriously industrial feel to it, all stainless, with amazing gray concrete countertops.

The second floor is surrounded by stainless rails with frosted glass inserts, an unusual set of steps leading up, made of planks of a light colored wood, suspended on heavy stainless cables, stainless steel rails lining the sides. It's very modern, if not a bit fussy, and in Dean's opinion, not as warm as his little house back in Lawrence.

Castiel's got interesting tribal art on the walls, some of the pieces looking absolutely ancient, and in all honesty, Dean's a little afraid to touch anything. He's also a bit worried about the cream colored sofa. He does his best to keep clean, but he works in an auto shop after all, and he never knows when an errant bit of grease is going to adhere itself to the ass of his jeans.

He doesn't hear Cas come back down the stairs, and Dean jumps slightly as a warm body presses against his back, soft kisses landing on his neck.

"You hungry?"

Dean turns in Cas's arms, wraps his own around the other man's waist and nods.

"Let's make dinner then." Cas turns and heads for his kitchen, opening the huge double door refrigerator and digging inside. Dean's suddenly faced with a bout of shyness, and he stands there a moment, watching Castiel move around the kitchen, pulling out ingredients and pans.

There's something stirring in him, and it's a worrisome feeling, because this is only their second date, if you even want to call it that, but Dean can't deny that he's feeling one hell of a rush of emotion watching Cas begin prepping dinner.

He's not falling in love. He can't be. Not this soon. It doesn't matter that they've been on the phone constantly over the last week. It doesn't matter that he's told Cas everything, even crap he's never shared with Sam, with anyone for that matter. It doesn't matter that he can't stop thinking of him, that his train of thought lately begins, middles, and ends with Castiel Novak.

It's too soon. It's too damn soon.

But it's there anyway. It's there as Dean stands watching him, dark hair mussed and crazy, blue eyes sparkling, dark stubble lining his jaw. He watches the play of muscles under the snug gray tee, admires the fit of the nicely cut khaki cargo pants. It's there, that feeling, it's settling somewhere deep inside him and Dean can't deny that it almost feels like coming home. It's too damn soon, and Dean doesn't have a goddamn clue how to deal with it.

"You coming?" Cas calls from the kitchen, where he's chopping up some sort of meat on a cutting board, a pleasant smile directed at Dean, and he feels his stomach bottom out again.

_No. I'm not doing this. I'm here, and I'm going to have fun, and I'm not going to make such a goddamn big deal about it._

He plasters his most charming grin on his face, and joins Cas in the kitchen.

* * *

"Ok, separate three eggs, put the yolks in this bowl."

He sets the bowl in front of Dean, and goes back to chopping the Italian flat leaf parsley he just pulled out of his fridge. Dean cracks an egg, and lets it run over his hand, carefully snagging the yolk and letting the white drip away into another container.

"Look at you," Castiel smiles.

"I used to use the shells to separate them, but Alton says the shells are full of bacteria, so my freshly washed hands are a safer bet, right?"

"Absolutely." Castiel confirms, "Never let it be said my friend Mr. Brown doesn't know his stuff."

Dean chuckles, efficiently separating the other two eggs in the same manner, then washing his hands in the sink. Castiel dumps the chopped parsley into the bowl with the yolks, then sets it aside.

"So what are we making anyway?"

"_Spaghetti alla Carbonara_. Basically means spaghetti with eggs and bacon. Ever had it before?"

"Nope. But it sounds good. Personally, I think you're just trying to get in my pants with the Italian food."

"Is it working?"

"Totally."

They both grin at each other. Castiel pulls out a head of garlic and tosses it to Dean.

"Mince about four cloves of that while I finishing chopping up the pancetta."

"You gonna help me again? I think I might need another garlic mincing lesson." Dean's got a smug little smirk on his face.

"Sure, I can do that. Go ahead and peel them, and I'll just get the pancetta in the pan." He finishes chopping the meat, then Castiel drizzles some olive oil into a preheated deep skillet, waits a second, then tosses the pancetta in, giving it a stir to break up the larger clumps. Dean's finished peeling the cloves and has started mincing them.

He slides in behind him, putting his hands in the same places he had when they'd been in Dean's kitchen, moving his hands to demonstrate how to properly mince the garlic.

"See how much better that works?" Castiel whispers into Dean's ear, and he softly kisses Dean's neck.

"Oh, yeah. It works a lot better like this," Dean says, his voice a low growl. Castiel slides his hands off the knife and onto the jut of Dean's hips, dragging his tongue down the other man's neck, and Dean makes a soft _hmm_ sound, letting his head drop backwards onto Castiel's shoulder, and he uses the opportunity to nip lightly at the bolt of Dean's jaw. "Cas. Cas, we're gonna…we're gonna…ugh."

Dean's body sags into Castiel's, as Castiel continues kissing his neck, sliding his hands up from Dean's hips, and under the hem of his tee, hands sliding across the warmth of Dean's belly, and he can feel Dean melting in his arms.

"So many things I want to do to you," he murmurs, enjoying the breathy little sigh he receives.

"What about…what about…dinner?" Dean gasps out, completely distracted by Castiel's ministrations. Castiel smiles against Dean's neck, and pulls his hands away.

"Oh, right, totally forgot about that." He moves back over to the stove, stirs the pancetta, and dumps a box of pasta into a deep pasta pot full of boiling water. He gives Dean a sidelong glance, pleased to see that the garlic is finished and that Dean looks absolutely wrecked, gorgeously disheveled, cheeks pink and chest heaving.

_Oh yeah_, Castiel thinks, _feed him first, then I am taking that man to bed for the rest of the night!_

"Bring me the garlic please," Castiel says, smiling when Dean jumps slightly, and brings the cutting board over. Castiel dumps it in with the pancetta, adding crushed red pepper flakes and freshly cracked black pepper. "There's another board over there, with a wedge of Romano. Grate that up, please?"

"Sure," Dean says quietly, moving over to take care of the cheese. Castiel adds about a cup of Chardonnay to the pan, stirring everything around, then checking on the pasta. It's almost done.

"Ok, Dean, get that ladle. We have to temper the eggs so they don't scramble." He fetches a whisk from one of the drawers near the stove, and hands it to Dean. "Scoop up two ladles-full of pasta water and slowly whisk it into the eggs." He watches as Dean follows his instructions. "Ok, bring that over here, and I'll drain the pasta. Grab the cheese too."

"Ok."

Castiel dumps the drained pasta into the pan with the pancetta, then the egg mixture, and tosses it quickly to combine, then gestures to Dean to dump the cheese in.

"Ok, that's done. Easy, right?"

Dean nods.

"Let's eat then."

* * *

Dean sits awkwardly on Cas's couch, balancing a plate on his lap, a wine glass on the thick glass coffee table across from him.

The pasta is perfect, cheesy and garlicky, and the pancetta is crisp and salty.

"How is it?" Cas asks pleasantly.

"Delicious, but you knew that, right?"

Cas chuckles. "Always good to hear, anyway." Cas picks up a remote from the end table at the end of the couch and clicks it, and the sounds of a jazz trumpet fill the room. Dean recognizes the song, and smiles.

"_La Vie en Rose_? You really do love that movie."

"It's beautiful. When Sabrina's explaining the song to Linus, about seeing the world through rose-colored glasses? But, yes, I really do love that movie. Hell, it's no wonder, as much as I love Paris."

"You've been there?"

"Yes, several times. My parents took us there as children. That was where they went on their honeymoon."

"Romantic."

"Indeed."

Louis Armstrong's voice drifts through the loft, as they finish their dinner. Dean's got that itchy feeling, doesn't know what to do with his hands when Cas takes his plate. He drains his wine glass, the Chardonnay making him feel warm. The song ends, and _Night and Day_ by Sinatra comes up next. Cas is taking the plates out to the kitchen, so Dean gets up, intent on following him and helping clean up.

"Really like the old stuff, huh?"

"I do love Sinatra, and Dean Martin, Etta James, all that stuff from the sixties. It's sexy without even trying. But I like lots of other music as well. You never really know what's going to come on next." Cas hands Dean a plastic container. "Can you put the leftovers away?" Dean nods. "What type of music do you like?"

"Classic rock. Led Zeppelin, Styx, Metallica, AC/DC, what my brother calls Hair Band Noise."

"I wouldn't exactly call Zep a Hair Band."

"Exactly, me either, but that's Sammy for you." Dean puts the leftover spaghetti in the fridge, and Cas puts the pan in the sink and runs some water into it. He refills Dean's wine glass, and his own.

"Come with me," he says, taking Dean's hand and leading him to the stairs. "You've seen the downstairs, let me show you the upstairs."

Dean feels his cheeks heat, he knows exactly where this is going, but he says nothing, taking a quick sip from his glass before following Cas up the stairs.

The second floor of the loft proves to be a big open space as well, more exposed brick and charcoal colored walls. There's a black desk in one corner, and a large black lowboy dresser, and a row of more of the massive windows like downstairs. Cas's bed is as big as Dean's, a black wooden platform with a flat headboard, the bedding shades of black and charcoal with stripes of bright red running throughout. Through an open door, Dean can see a bathroom, more of the same color scheme, ultra-modern glass and steel fixtures.

Cas leads him towards the bed, taking Dean's glass from his hand and setting it on one of the nightstands. He pulls Dean closer to him, wrapping his arms around his waist.

"Remember what I said to you on the phone Saturday? What I was going to do to you next time I saw you?" His voice has dropped impossibly deep, gravelly inflection doing unreal things to Dean.

"Yeah," Dean says shakily, already far more turned on then he's willing to admit. Cas is licking a stripe down his neck, his hands sliding under Dean's tee, slender fingers spanning the small of his back.

"Mmm, going to undress you slow," he murmurs against Dean's neck, sliding his fingers down into Dean's waistband. "Gonna taste every inch of you." From downstairs, the music changes again, The Moody Blues' _Nights in White Satin_ drifting up the stairs. Cas slips his hands back under Dean's shirt, then moves them slowly upward, taking the shirt off and tossing it carelessly on the floor.

Dean feels like he's on fire, becoming more and more turned on with every brush of Castiel's hands on his skin. Cas's hands drift around to the front of him, landing on the snap and fly of Dean's jeans, and he makes quick work of the zipper. Dean quickly toes out of his sneakers and kicks them away, then gasps as Cas's mouth finds his nipple, sucking it, tongue darting furiously across the raised nub.

"Fuck," he gasps, then Cas is spinning him, and pushing him back onto the bed, and Dean lands on his back with a muffled grunt, and then Cas is sliding his jeans off. "What happened to undressing me slow?" Dean grins.

"Fuck slow."

* * *

He's naked now, completely, stretched out on Castiel's bed like he belongs there, and Castiel wants to take his time, wants to make it slow and sweet and torturous, but he's so turned on, all he wants to do is get Dean screaming.

"Why am I the only one naked?" Dean asked petulantly, and Castiel smiles.

"I'll get there," he smirks, crawling up the bed, arms bracketing Dean's chest, and he leans down, pressing his mouth to Dean's, slipping his tongue into his open mouth, then pulling away to press open mouth kisses to Dean's neck. "This is about you, Dean, what I'm going to do to you. I've been thinking about it all week. I'm going to make you feel so good, make you scream, and you're going to love it."

Dean gasps, breathless, back arching slightly. "Fuck, Cas, you're killing me here."

"That's kind of the idea. You have no idea what this week has been like," Castiel drags his tongue along Dean's neck and collarbone, pulling up to look in those pretty green eyes. "Couldn't stop thinking about you, couldn't stop imagining what I was going to do to you, all the things I want to try, dreaming about the taste of you, making plans, terrified that you wouldn't be able to go through with the flight. The sense of relief I felt when you walked out of that gate was unreal. And now you're here, in my bed, I've got you right where I want you, and you are never going to forget this night."

The sound of Led Zeppelin's _Since I've Been Loving You_ floats up the stairs, and Castiel smiles, leaning in for another searing kiss, loving the way Dean looks when he pulls away, flushed and aroused, green just a thin band around his lust blown pupils. He's breathing hard, and he jerks when Castiel lets his hand slip down and cover his rock hard cock.

"Cas," he whimpers. "Fuck. Fuck."

"Ssh, I got you baby. I got you." Castiel drags his tongue down Dean's chest, leaving little bites and kisses on the way down, his hand tight on Dean's cock, sliding up and down the length. Dean's hands wrap in his hair, he's shaking, and Castiel loves every minute of it. He's going to take him apart, break him down with his mouth.

He spreads Dean's legs apart, pressing kisses to his inner thighs, inching slowly back up, pressing hard kisses along Dean's legs, sucking the skin at the jut of his hip into his mouth, feeling the rush of blood underneath, soaking in the sweet gasps and moans coming from the man underneath of him.

His fingers dance across Dean's throbbing hardness, ghosting over the tip of it, drifting down to cup his balls.

"Fuck, Cas, fuck, Christ, you're killing me man, you're killing me."

Castiel grins, and without warning, drops his mouth, swallowing Dean whole, the other man's back arching hard off the bed, and Castiel puts his hands on his hips to hold him down, Dean's hands tightening their grip in his hair.

He swirls his tongue around the tip, licks a trail through the slit, lapping up thick drops of precome, and Dean's shaking so badly now, a stream of nonsense pouring out of his mouth. He's falling apart under Castiel's mouth, and he dips his head again, swallowing Dean down as far as he can go, relaxing his throat and taking him all the way in.

"Oh fuck, Cas, Cas, I can't, oh fuck, it's too much, it's too much, fuck, fuck, fuck, Cas!" Castiel works him harder, fucking his mouth on Dean's cock, and Dean's reduced to just incoherent sounds now, gasping, whimpering, totally falling apart, and Castiel feels him twitch, a long groan from above.

"Cas! Fuccccccckkkk!" Dean screams, and comes, hard, thick ropes of come shooting down Castiel's throat, and he swallows it all, reveling in the taste, something salty, but pure, something so incredibly _Dean_.

He sucks Dean through it, then pulls off with a noisy pop, crawling up the bed to lay beside him.

Dean's wrecked. He's gasping, eyes and hair wild, but he looks at Castiel with total adoration in his eyes.

"Cas," he whispers, exhaustion evident in his eyes.

"Ssh, it's alright." Castiel kisses him, a sweet gentle kiss, then pulls the blankets out from under them. He tucks Dean in, presses a kiss to his sweaty brow. "Go to sleep. You've had a long day."

"What about you? I can…" Dean yawns loudly, looking rather embarrassed.

"No, tonight was for you. Rest, Dean, we've got all weekend." Dean nods sleepily, and a few minutes later, he's gone. Castiel props himself up on his elbow, watching the play of ambient light from the city dance across Dean's face, cheekbones and strong jaw lit up, long lashes laying on freckled cheeks, still pink with exertion.

He sits up, undresses, carelessly throws his clothes on the floor, then crawls back into the bed, pulls Dean into his arms, admiring his peaceful face in the near dark of his room.

When it hits, he's completely taken by surprise, floored by the revelation.

It's too soon. He's known Dean for exactly a week, not long enough to be feeling this way. He can't be. It's not possible.

You don't fall in love with someone in a week.

It just doesn't happen like that.

But, as he watches the beautiful man in his arms sleep, face unlined and relaxed, Castiel can't deny that he's feeling…something.

Is it love? He doesn't know. He does know one thing though.

He doesn't want to spend another minute without Dean Winchester in it.


	9. My Wildest Dreamings

Dean wakes slowly, to the sound of rain hitting the windows, and a soulful and sultry female voice singing about a land of gods and monsters.

He doesn't recognize the song, but it's definitely hot, and he is too. Dean's woken up about as hard as he could possibly get, slightly disoriented, until he realizes Cas is pressed up against him. The other man is sleeping, breathing softly, deeply asleep with his back against Dean's chest. It's still dark out, at least as dark as it gets in New York, light from other buildings making Cas's face glow in the dim room. Dean has no idea what time it is, god only knows where his phone went, but he's got a burst of energy, and he's very turned on, and somehow, he's sure Castiel won't mind being woken up.

Dean leans forward, presses soft kisses along Cas's long neck, hand drifting down his side, trailing his fingers along Castiel's hip, slipping down to wrap his callused hand around Cas's soft cock. He gently starts stroking, slow and steady, smiling as he feels the blood rushing in, hardness slowly returning.

The music changes, and Dean recognizes John Mayer's voice. He doesn't know the song, but it's slow and sexy, something about setting fire to everything he sees, and he thinks it's appropriate as he gently rolls the other man onto his back, trailing kisses down his long torso, his hand still working Cas's dick to fullness. He's a little nervous, he's never done this before, but he sure paid attention when Cas did it to him earlier, and he knows he's a quick study.

Cas groans softly in his sleep, as Dean keeps traveling farther south. He settles between Cas's spread legs, takes a deep breath, and wraps his lips around Cas's now fully hard dick. Dean runs his tongue along the soft ridge of the head, taking a little more of Cas into his mouth. It's true he's never done this before, but he's had it done to him, and he knows what he likes, what feels good, so he uses that to take care of Castiel.

There's another low groan from above, as Cas shifts, hips rolling slightly, then his slender fingers find Dean's head, and he tugs lightly on Dean's hair.

"Dean," he gasps, "Holy fuck, Christ." His voice is raspy with sleep, and Dean smiles around his cock, dropping his head lower to take more of him in. Cas is writhing, his hips moving, and Dean can tell from his own experience that he's holding back, not wanting to thrust into Dean's inexperienced throat.

"Oh my god, holy fuck, God, Dean, the way you feel, God, Christ." Cas's voice is deep and raspy, and his dick twitches in Dean's mouth. Dean bobs his head up and down, tongue twisting around the crown on every upstroke, pushing hard at the base on every down stroke, and he can feel Cas getting closer and closer, his slender fingers scrabbling for purchase in Dean's short hair, inadvertent scratches of nails on Dean's scalp making his own dick twitch. He relaxes his throat, and drops his head as far as possible, taking Cas deep into the back of his throat.

"So close, Dean, so close, oh god, fuck, fuck!" and Cas is coming, Dean getting his first taste of come, and finding that it's not bad at all, and he swallows as much as possible, licking it all up, licking Cas clean. Cas is panting above him, and Dean slowly kisses his way back up, sucking little marks into his perfect skin, finally coming to lay eye to eye with Cas, drinking in the way his blue eyes are shining, and he kisses him, deep and intently, then buries his face in Cas's neck. Castiel sucks in a deep breath. "What was that for?" he gasps.

"Returning the favor," Dean murmurs into his neck, sleep already pulling him back down.

"Are you sure you've never done that before? Because that was…I don't even have words."

Dean chuckles. "I'm sure." He yawns loudly, drifting back off, and the last thing he's aware of is Cas kissing his forehead and wrapping him tightly in his arms.

* * *

It's still raining when Castiel wakes, warmth pressed into his shoulder and the smell of coconut in his nose.

Dean is snoring softly, still wrapped in his arms, his face hidden in Castiel's neck, one arm tossed over Castiel's waist. Adele is playing downstairs, _Make You Feel My Love_ drifting up the steps. Apparently, he never turned the stereo off last night.

It's so warm and comfortable in bed with Dean, rain softly pattering against the windows, the sky outside pale and gray, and he doesn't want to get up, but Castiel's bladder is starting make demands. He carefully disentangles himself from Dean, and the other man makes a soft snuffling noise and burrows into the pillow. Castiel smiles at him, he's sure he'll never get tired of seeing Dean like this, peaceful, face unlined and worry free, lost in his dreams, with his hair all crazy and bed-headed.

He stands there watching him sleep a moment more, that crazy feeling welling up again, that surge of, he doesn't know what to call it, 'cause it's too soon to call it love, but that _something_, that surge of, if nothing else, intense affection he feels for Dean. He refuses to call it love. Because it isn't. It can't be.

Castiel takes care of business in the bathroom, then goes back to his bedroom. He finds his boxers in a pile of his and Dean's clothes, and slides them on. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he watches Dean for a moment, tracking the little twitches in his face. He wonders what he's dreaming about.

With a happy sigh, Castiel heads downstairs, putting together a quick breakfast of the cheese danishes he picked up at Dean and Deluca the day before, and some fresh fruit, then he makes a quick pot of coffee. He puts everything on a tray, with two mugs, a carafe, sugar bowl, and a small pitcher of cream. _Chasing Cars _by Snow Patrol is on when he heads back up. Setting the tray on the nightstand, he sits back down to wait for Dean to wake. It's only 7:30, and Castiel's a notoriously early riser. The coffee will keep, so he's going to let Dean sleep.

Castiel spends the next twenty minutes checking email on his phone, waiting for Dean, who finally begins to stir. He opens one green eye and squints up at Castiel, who smiles pleasantly at him.

"Good morning, sleep well?"

Dean grins. "I slept very well, except for this little moment in the middle of the night. How about you?"

"Yeah, I had that weird middle of the night wakeup as well. How odd." They sit there grinning at each other like a couple of idiots, until Dean gets up and practically struts to the bathroom, pretty much showing off his ass for Castiel's benefit. He comes back a second later, and walks around the bed, eyes boring into Castiel's, still completely naked, an open look of raw _want_ on his face. Dean lowers a knee onto the foot of the bed, then starts a languid crawl up the mattress, ducking his head and dragging his tongue up Castiel's leg, a devilish smirk on his face as he stops to look up, green of his eyes already almost completely gone, pupils wide with lust.

Castiel forgets how to breathe, as Dean continues to ghost kisses and little kitten licks up his body, smiling as he draws closer. Desire overtakes Castiel, and he flips Dean onto his back, pressing their mouths together, breakfast and coffee completely forgotten, as the music plays on downstairs.

* * *

Hours pass, little bites of pastry and fruit are exchanged and fed to each other, the rain slowly stops, music plays softly, and they both doze off and on, constantly touching, wrapping around each other as much as possible.

Dean's just waking up again, to find Cas smiling at him, their faces mere inches apart, and he leans in for a slow lingering kiss.

He's so happy. God help him, he's happy.

Dean wonders how long it's going to last. How long he's going to be allowed this brief respite from the normal loneliness of his existence, and he thinks about how much it's going to hurt when it inevitably falls apart. Because Dean doesn't get to keep the things that make him happy. He lives an existence of waiting for the other shoe to drop, of waiting for the hammer to fall. And this? This thing with Cas? It's too good, it's too magical, and he knows, in the end, he won't be allowed to keep it.

Once Cas really gets to know him, gets to know how big of a fuckup Dean is, he'll grow tired of him, and everything will implode.

Bela was like that. Everything seemed so perfect, but once she realized Dean would forever be coming home with grease under his fingernails, and was never going to be as rich as her parents, it didn't take her long to move on. What she saw in Gordon Walker though, well Dean would never figure that out. Bela had chewed him up, and spit him out, and she took one of his best friends and his $6000.00 diamond ring with her.

"Dean? You ok?" Cas's eyes are concerned, and Dean realizes his emotions must be written all over his face. Crap. "Where'd you go just now?" Cas asks softly. Dean ducks his head into Cas's shoulder, his cheeks flaming. "Hey," Cas cups Dean's chin in his hand, lifting him up to bring him eye level. There's concern in his blue eyes, and Dean's heart sinks. He's so far gone on Cas already, hell, he might even be in love, and he's already mourning the time when this will all be nothing but a distant memory.

"What is going on with you? What happened?"

Dean shakes his head, and tries to squirm out of Castiel's grasp.

"Dean, talk to me."

"I'm just. I don't. Crap…" he trails off. Cas runs a hand down Dean's back, letting his palm settle on the small of his back.

"What's going on? You look so unhappy. Please talk to me."

Dean shakes his head again. "It's nothing," he mutters.

"It's something. You look miserable. Please tell me. Maybe I can help."

"It's stupid. It's just that I'm happy, and I don't. I just don't."

Cas looks confused. "You don't what?"

"I don't get to be happy. Not for long," Dean whispers.

"Good things do happen, Dean." Cas says quietly.

"Not in my experience."

Castiel sighs, fingers aimlessly tracing patterns on Dean's back. He looks as upset as Dean feels. "What's the matter? You don't think you deserved to be loved?"

"Is that was this is? Love? 'Cause it's way too soon for that, don't you think?" Dean's voice is bitter.

"Maybe, maybe not. Who knows? What I do know," and he cups Dean's face again and pulls him close, "is that I care for you, a lot, and I want this relationship, I want you. And I'll do whatever it takes to prove that to you."

Dean opens his mouth to argue, but Castiel kisses him, effectively silencing him.

"Now," Cas whispers, "come join me in the shower. And please stop worrying? Ok?"

Dean nods, then watches as Cas walks, naked, across the hardwood, his eyes following the lines of the other man's body. He sighs as Castiel starts the shower, and wonders how long this is going to last, Cas's words doing little to reassure him, and he decides he'll just go with it, and enjoy it while he has it, and deal with the fallout later.

* * *

Dean's very quiet on the way to the theater.

They're sitting in the back of a cab, and he's staring out the window, clearly a million miles away. Castiel wonders what the hell happened between the amazing sex in the morning and their shower to close him off. It makes him angry too, and he finds himself wanting to hunt down the former fiancée in order to hurt her like she's clearly hurt Dean.

It bothers him to no end that Dean's prepared to accept a lifetime alone. Castiel wants to change that. He's amazed at how much he's come to care about Dean in such a short amount of time. He can understand how being so badly hurt feels. He's been there. And it hasn't been that long for Dean, just a scant nine months, and that's probably not enough time to recover from a long term relationship, let alone feel ready to date again.

He still feels like Dean is overthinking the situation. And he meant what he said, he's going to prove to Dean that it's worth it, he's going to do what it takes to convince the man that this relationship is worth having, that it's worth pursuing, and that Dean does deserve to be happy.

Doing that, proving it, is going to be a long term operation, but Castiel is determined that he's going to get through to him. He's going to break Dean out of this self-imposed shell of self-loathing. He's going to inch his way into Dean's world, one step at a time, until Dean realizes he's there to stay.

The cab pulls up in front of the Gershwin on West 51st, and Castiel pays and tips the driver. When he gets out of the cab, Dean is standing on the sidewalk, staring up at the marquee, a look of disbelief on his face.

"Dude. _Wicked_. I thought you weren't going to drag me here?"

"I read between the lines. You saying "you're not going to drag me to see _Wicked_" was Dean-speak for "take me to see _Wicked_"."

Dean grins, clearly pleased, and Castiel hands him his ticket.

"You're going to love it. This isn't your granddaddy's musical."

A few minutes later, they've taken their seats in the first row in the center of the balcony, which Castiel informs Dean are the best seats, providing a clear view of all the action on the stage. Dean's eyes travel over the stage, checking out the lighting, peering with interest into the orchestra pit.

"This is really cool. Have you read the book?"

"Yes, several times."

"Is the show pretty close to it?"

"Yes. If you liked the book, you'll enjoy the show." The house lights dim then, the orchestra begins playing the overture. For the next few hours, Castiel is treated to watching Dean's facial expressions as he watches the show. Dean's completely absorbed in Elphaba's story, swept away by the stage craft, lighting and music.

It's when Elphaba is singing _As Long as You're Mine_ to Fiyero that Castiel gets it. The lyrics make it so clear how Dean feels, how fragile the whole relationship is to him, and Castiel feels his heart break for Dean.

_Kiss me too fiercely, hold me to tight, I need help believing, you're with me tonight._

The look on his face is heartbreaking, he's clearly completely aware of how she feels, as Elphaba tries to convince herself that Fiyero is really hers.

This is how Dean feels. Like their relationship is doomed, before it's even really begun, and it makes Castiel so unspeakably sad.

_My wildest dreamings, could not foresee, lying beside you, with you wanting me._

_And just for this moment, as long as you're mine, I've lost all resistance, and crossed some borderline, and if it turns out, it's over too fast, I'll make every last moment last, as long as you're mine…_

He reaches out, across the arm rest, and takes Dean's hand, entangling his fingers in Dean's, joining them together until their palms are pressed flat, fingers interlocked.

Dean looks down at their joined hands, then looks up at Castiel, and for a moment, it's like they're the only ones in the theater, and a slight smile graces Dean's face. Castiel leans over and gently kisses him, and when he pulls away, Dean is looking at him with something like awe, eyes wide and sparkling, and he smiles for Castiel, a real smile, and of all things, lays his head on Castiel's shoulder, and that's where he stays for the rest of the show, never unjoining their hands.

* * *

"That was amazing! Every bit of it. Who knew? I like musicals. Go figure. Crap, Sam's never going to let me hear the end of this!"

Dean's chattering a mile a minute, feeling so much better than he had that morning. The show had been amazing, watching all the technical aspects, the lighting, the sets, the amazing costumes, the incredibly talented actors, and it was so easy to lose himself in the story.

And the sparks he'd felt when Cas took his hand? Christ, he felt like he was back in middle school, holding hands with his first little girlfriend at the seventh grade dance. Only this was better, light years better.

If he's forced to admit it, Dean feels a little bit like he's walking on air. Cas is clearly entertained by his buoyant mood, seeing as how neither of them have stopped smiling since leaving the Gershwin.

They're headed to Reade Street, and Blue Heaven. Dean's got on the suit Cas asked him to bring, wore it to the show, and he knows he looks good. It's a simple black suit, with a thin white pinstripe, crisp white button down underneath. Cas has his tie in his messenger bag, and he takes it from him now, deftly making a Windsor knot in the pale green silk.

"Wow," Cas says reverently. "You looked damn good in that suit to begin with, but the tie. Christ. I never could tie one of those damn knots." He looks disdainfully at his own navy blue tie, and Dean grins, and takes pity on him, putting it around his neck and tying it properly.

"There you go. I can show you sometime. It's easy."

Cas reaches across the seat of the cab, taking Dean's hand again, and damn, he sure could get used to this.

The cab pulls up in front of a building in Tribeca, huge glass windows framed by wooden pillars painted a deep cerulean. Painted on the center window, in pristine gold lettering, are the words "Blue Heaven Steakhouse". There's a simple wrought iron bench out front, flanked by topiary on either end, tiny fairy lights hidden in the branches.

He's been here before, nine months ago, but the place looks different when you're on the owner's arm. It's after five, and the place is already hopping, diners chattering nosily. It's an upscale place, but there's no upscale attitude. Blue Heaven is about as laid back as a down home barbecue joint, except this down home joint is in a desirable Tribeca neighborhood and carries a 29 out of 30 Zagat score, and you're going to wait at least three months for a reservation.

Or, you can do what Dean did nine months ago and hang around for four hours waiting for someone to cancel.

The maître'd's eyes light up as Castiel enters the restaurant, still pulling Dean along behind him, hands firmly entwined. The dining room is one huge space, exposed brick making up the entirety of one wall, a long red leather bench running the length. There are six huge white pillars strategically spaced throughout the room, dark stained tables neatly aligned, matching chairs with red leather seats filled with diners. The light fixtures are simple clear bulbs on black wires, and the bar is made of the same dark wood as the tables.

But what Dean loves most about the restaurant is the ceiling. It's varying shades of night-sky blue, white fluffy clouds painted all over, and tiny LED lights embedded everywhere, mimicking a star-lit night.

It's such a far cry from the coldness of Cas's loft that he wonders how they can belong to the same person.

Cas is leading him through the dining room, lots of folks calling out greetings, and Cas stops to say hello to many of them, patting wait staff on the back, stopping briefly to confer with the bartender, then he's pulling Dean into the kitchen.

"Well, well, well, there's the good-lookin' boy who stole my little brother's heart!"

Dean's attack-hugged by a short man with golden eyes and soft brown hair wearing a white chef's coat. He smiles, recognizing him from Cas's pictures. "You must be Gabriel."

"Indeed I am! The best looking of the Novak siblings."

"I think Anna would disagree," Cas retorts drily.

"Yeah, actually, I would too," Dean says with a grin, his declaration making Cas beam.

"Yeah, yeah. So, Cassie, you suiting up and helping out, or are we waiting on you tonight?"

"Nope, you're waiting on me tonight. Is my other guest here yet?"

"Yup. Him and the wife are at table 19."

"Excellent," Cas says, and grins devilishly at Dean. "Come with me." He takes Dean by the hand again, and leads him back into the dining room. "Have I got a surprise for you."

Dean looks at him in confusion, wondering what Cas has planned. He leads him to a table for four, where a pretty blonde woman and a redheaded man are already seated, sipping martinis and chatting.

_Holy crap_, Dean thinks, recognizing the guy right away, _holy friggin' crap_.

They turn, see Cas, and the man stands with a smile.

"Dean Winchester, I'd like you to meet my good friend, Bobby Flay, and his lovely wife, Ms. Stephanie March."


	10. Stay

Dean's leaning back in a deck chair, fat cigar burning in one hand, the other hand wrapped around a crystal tumbler of Glenlivet.

He's pretty friggin' drunk, face pleasantly flushed, laughing uproariously at something Michael Symon just said, and Castiel doesn't think he's ever seen anything more beautiful in his entire life.

They'd stayed at Blue Heaven with the Flays until well after eleven, chatting, laughing, and eating whatever Gabe sent out. Mike Symon popped in, then Ted Allen and his husband, Barry Rice, showed up, and the party got loud and raucous. Then Bobby suggested they go back to his place, Symon tagging along, and they ended up on Bobby's rooftop deck. Drinks were poured and cigars brought out, crazy stories exchanged, and now it's well after 2:00 am. Dean's top three shirt buttons are open, tie and jacket tossed carelessly over a table, and he's clearly having the time of his life.

He fits in seamlessly with Castiel's friends, and Castiel wasn't shallow enough to say that it was some kind of a test, but watching Dean interact with the others so comfortably definitely warmed the chef's heart. He and Symon are loudly discussing cars now, arguing the finer points of cubic inches and torque, American muscle versus Italian super cars, the absolute genius of Carroll Shelby and Chip Foose, and Castiel watches as Dean raises the cigar to his lips, takes a long drag, and the image makes him want to get Dean out of there and back to his bedroom like twenty minutes ago.

"He's wonderful," Stephanie says quietly, as she sits beside him on a chaise. "Think you found a keeper this time, Castiel?"

"Mmm. I think so."

"Doesn't hurt that he's gorgeous."

"Hey, I heard that." Bobby chimes in, his cheeks also flushed from alcohol, a big grin on his face. Stephanie laughs, and he flops gracelessly onto the chaise she's perching on. "You people need to get out of my house so I can take my wife to bed!" he says loudly, and Dean and Mike both crack up.

"I think that's our cue," Castiel smiles, as he stands. Ten minutes later, they've said their goodbyes, and Castiel pushes an extremely drunk Winchester into a Yellow Cab, sliding in next to him. Castiel's not nearly as drunk, just pleasantly buzzed, but Dean is acting downright silly.

As the cab pulls into traffic, Dean slides across the seat, pushing his hip firmly into Castiel's, then drops his head onto his shoulder, grinning ridiculously at him.

"Did you have fun?"

"I had so much fun. So frucking much fun!"

"Frucking?"

"Frucking." Dean giggles. "I'm a teensy bit drunk." He illustrates his point by holding his thumb and forefinger together to indicate how slightly drunk he really is, but he can't seem to make them touch. Dean looks at his hand in confusion, then bursts into another fit of giggles. "Nah, I'm completely, totally wasted. Dude. I just got trashed at Bobby Friggin' Flay's house. I drank expensive friggin' scotch with Mike Symon, who had not only _heard of me_, but asked for my card and wants me to do a car for him. I have a $50 cigar in my shirt pocket that Flay demanded I take with me. Dude. I didn't even know I liked cigars!" He giggles again, and hides his face in Castiel's shoulder. "I'm so fucked up," he whispers into Castiel's shirt.

Castiel smiles and wraps his arms around Dean and pulls him in close, Dean's face still buried in his shirt. "I'm glad you had fun, Dean."

"Best night ever, dude. Seriously." He smiles up at Castiel again, heavy eyelids drifting shut as they make their way home.

* * *

He wakes up to sunlight pouring through the windows, and hands exploring his body.

Dean's fully awake in an instant, aware of the mouth leaving marks on his skin. Cas's hands are everywhere, fingers tracing lines and patterns over his hips, ghosting over his inner thighs, hot breath following the trail of his touch. He's dragging his hands and lips over every inch of Dean's body, leaving little kisses everywhere, sucking blood to the surface, making his mark, claiming Dean for his own.

An odd little whimper leaves his throat as Cas sucks his big toe into his warm mouth, and Dean thinks he shouldn't find that so damn fucking hot, but it is, and he squirms on the bed. Cas chuckles softly, then slowly kisses his way back up Dean's leg, his fingers following his mouth, setting every inch of Dean's skin on fire. He kisses all around Dean's groin, completely avoiding Dean's painfully hard erection, choosing instead to dip his tongue into his navel, then moving agonizingly slowly upward, stopping to pull a nipple into his mouth, tongue swirling around the hard nub of flesh, then making Dean gasp when he lightly bites down. Cas repeats the process on the other side, and Dean's got his fists tangled in the sheets, gripping tight in a failed attempt to ground himself.

Cas is eye level with him now, hovering over him, a devilish look in his cobalt eyes.

"Good morning, gorgeous," he rasps, dipping his head and pressing their lips together. "Sleep well?" Dean nods, and Cas smiles. "Good." He moves his hips, slotting his erection alongside of Dean's. Leaning in, he captures Dean's mouth again, pulls away and gently bites his bottom lip, slowly setting up a rhythm, working himself against Dean, who's gasping, and arching his back, pushing his body into Castiel's. Cas is sucking kisses into his neck, and Dean grabs his hips and pulls him in closer, breaths coming fast and hard now, as Cas pushes him closer and closer to release.

"God, Dean, could do this all day. All damn day."

"Fuck, Cas, I'm so fucking close, I'm so close."

Cas covers his mouth again, tongue slipping past his lips, running it along the curve of Dean's teeth, never once relenting in the steady rhythm, and Dean's going to come, he can feel it.

"Next time," Cas growls, "You're going to fuck me, you're going to be inside me."

And that's it for Dean, he's gone, falling right off the ledge, coming instantly, senses overloaded by Castiel's words, and Cas is right behind him, groaning, face dropping into Dean's shoulder, breath coming fast and hot against his neck.

They lay like that for a while, coming down, heart rates returning to normal, Cas laying across Dean's body, hands absently petting each other, Dean carding his fingers through Castiel's sweaty hair. He dozes briefly, then Cas nudges him awake again, and drags him to the shower, where they wash each other, rubbing soap over each other's bodies, scrubbing hair clean in between lingering kisses.

They get dressed quietly, neither one of them wanting to think too much about the fact that it's Sunday, and Dean's supposed to get on a plane for Kansas City at four. And it's eleven now. Their last day together is already half over.

Cas serves him coffee and makes eggs and toast, setting a large bowl of berries on the table as well. They eat in silence, Dean trying to think of something to say, to tell Cas how wonderful the weekend was, but he can't find the words.

"Stay." Cas's voice is rough, and Dean startles slightly. He looks at Cas, who's staring at him expectantly, waiting for him to answer.

"Cas. I'd love to, believe me, I would but…"

"Not forever, just one more day. We could drive out to Long Island, I have a friend who owns a house out there. They're in Europe, and I have the keys. We could put the top down on my car, blast Led Zeppelin, walk on the beach, just one more night Dean. Please stay."

Dean sighs. God, he wants to stay. He wants to stay so badly, he wants to do everything Cas suggested and more. He thinks about it. Dammit, he owns the business and he never takes time off, Crowley's car is back on schedule, and all that would be happening with it tomorrow is Garth's forte, the pin striping and air-brushed skulls Crowley requested. That's all Garth. Dean and Benny finished everything for the power train and suspension on Friday, so really, yeah, he could stay another day if he wanted to. And he really, really wants to. He meets Cas's eyes, and smiles.

"Ok."

* * *

If there's anything better in this world than watching the sun light up the highlights in Dean's hair as they drive out of the city, Castiel doesn't know what it is.

He's got on a pair of Castiel's own Ray Bans, the wind is whipping through his hair, he's singing Zep's _All of My Love_, and he looks perfectly comfortable and content behind the wheel of Castiel's SL63. The top is down, the radio is loud, and traffic is surprisingly light.

He's wearing those same sinfully tight jeans he had on when Castiel first met him, and a faded Stones tee. Dean was dismayed to find he was out of hair gel that morning, and Castiel didn't have any, so Dean's hair is soft and fluffy. He also hadn't shaved that morning, and Castiel keeps finding excuses to touch the stubble on his cheeks.

Dean's still singing, Bad Company's _Ready for Love_ now, in between taking long drags off the cigar Bobby Flay had given him the night before. He sings off key when he notices Castiel watching, all big grins and silly showmanship, but then he'll get distracted, or focus on the road, and he'll sing a bit more seriously, not deliberately messing it up, and Castiel's not surprised to find Dean has a truly good voice. Dean sometimes will look right at him while singing the lyrics, especially the parts that speak of being ready for love, and he's not sure if he's doing that on purpose or not, but Castiel likes it. He also likes the way his sunglasses look on Dean.

"Damn, you look good in those sunglasses."

"Thanks! I need them with the top down like this. Your car is sweet, man. Although I almost feel like I'm cheating on Baby." Dean laughs.

"Well, we just won't tell her, ok?"

"Ok. Fair enough."

They arrive in the Hamptons around 4:00, and Castiel shows Dean around the house, a big, airy, classic Long Island style home, weathered brown siding and slate roof, gorgeous gardens making up the backyard. From the deck, they can see the ocean. Castiel unpacks the groceries they stopped in town to purchase, while Dean puts their bag in the spacious guest room. He rejoins Castiel in the kitchen, and helps him wash grapes. Dean finds wine glasses and Castiel opens a bottle of Merlot.

They eat dinner on the deck, wine and many different cheeses, crusty bread, grapes, and slices of apple. It's a simple meal, but very satisfying, and after they've cleaned up the mess, they walk through the yard, hand in hand, to the edge of the property where the sand begins. The sun is setting in the west, behind them, the ocean sparkling in the dimming light.

Dean shucks his socks and shoes, leaving them on the edge of the yard, and Castiel follows suit. They join hands again, and walk out in the direction of the ocean, neither one of them saying much, just enjoying the warmth of each other's company and the beauty of the night sky darkening on the horizon.

"Look," Castiel points off into the far distance, "there's a boat out there. Probably fisherman." The boat is far off, only the bobbing lights visible.

"It's pretty."

"The scenery here _is_ beautiful," Castiel confirms, looking meaningfully at Dean, who smiles and leans in for a kiss. They walk for a while longer, holding hands, occasionally stopping to kiss, and by the time they head back to the house, it's fully dark, the moon shining over the water.

Dean scoops up both pairs of shoes, and lets Castiel lead him back into the house.

* * *

Cas starts a fire in the house's huge stone fireplace, and hands Dean another glass of wine, then settles down next to him on the overstuffed couch, tucking his legs up underneath himself.

He must've hit the stereo at some point, there's music coming from somewhere, a song about green eyes, and Cas chuckles.

"What?" Dean asks.

"This song, it's called _Green Eyes_. It fits you."

"Sounds like the kind of stuff Sammy listens to."

"Is that a bad thing?"

"Sometimes," Dean laughs, "but this isn't so bad." He takes a sip of his wine, setting the glass on the end table next to the couch.

"So, what are you doing next weekend?"

"Throwing a monster thirtieth birthday party for Sam. I'm going to be spending all day Saturday cooking, while Adam and Jo decorate my house." Dean wants to invite Cas, but he knows he just does not have the money to fly Cas first class, and he's not about to ask him to fly coach, let alone asking Cas to pay for his own ticket. Plus, he's not sure how Cas would feel about meeting his family, or if he's even interested in that, although Dean wants to show him off, wants him to meet Sam, Adam, and Ben, the three most important people in his life, a list that he's starting to realize Cas is on as well.

"Sounds like fun," Cas says, an odd tone in his voice. Dean wonders about that a moment, but he suddenly finds himself with a lapful of Cas, who pushes his mouth onto Dean's, putting way more force into the kiss then he normally does, already working his hands under Dean's shirt.

Dean slides his hands around to Cas's back, pulling him in closer and deepening the kiss, opening Cas's mouth with his tongue, while the other man yanks hard on his shirt, doing his best to take it off of Dean, and he leans forward to help him, and a second later, the Stones tee is discarded on the floor.

Castiel dips his head, latching onto Dean's earlobe and pulling it into his mouth. Dean can feel the hardness of Cas's erection against his belly, and he lets out a low groan when Cas shoves his hips into Dean's lap, thrusting wantonly against him.

"Dean," Cas growls in between his attacks on Dean's neck. "I want you to fuck me. I want to feel you. Fuck me, Dean."

Dean's breath catches in his throat, and he tips his head back to stare up at Cas. The other man's eyes are hooded, hot with desire, and the look on his face makes Dean want to come right then and there.

"Ok," is all he can get out, and Cas is gracefully unfolding himself from Dean's lap, standing in front of him, holding out a hand to help Dean up from the couch, then he turns and walks to the bedroom.

Dean takes a deep breath, runs a shaky hand through his hair, and follows.

* * *

Castiel makes very short work of the rest of their clothes and they tumble into the bed, landing amongst a thousand throw pillows, and they both wordlessly shove the majority of them to the ground.

He can hear Sarah McLachlan's _Possession_ playing in the other room. It seems appropriate.

Castiel kisses Dean deeply, trying to push the hurt of not being invited to Sam's party to the side. That's not what he wants to think about tonight, he wants to be in this moment with Dean.

He goes down on Dean without preamble, and he can tell the other man is surprised, hears a gasp from above, and Dean's hands are in his hair, lightly pulling, hips thrusting up into Castiel's mouth. He sucks him briefly, then pulls away.

"Cas," Dean whimpers.

"No, not like that. Inside me, Dean. Inside me." He reaches up to the nightstand, where he'd had the foresight earlier in the evening to set the lube and condoms he's brought with him. "Don't worry, I'll show you what to do."

Dean gets a fiery look in his eyes, and flips Castiel onto his back, surprising the hell out of him.

"I may never have been with a guy like this before, but I've done this before. I know what I'm doing." And the next thing Castiel knows, Dean's taken him in his mouth, scorching wet heat surrounding him, and he groans. Dean works him hard and fast, tongue twisting around the crown, and then his fingers are there, right there, tip of one tracing around the circle of his entrance, and he can feel the cool of the lube.

He gasps, hips thrusting involuntarily into Dean's mouth, as the tip of that finger enters his ass, slow burn setting him on fire. Dean pulls off of his dick, lays his head on the crook of Castiel's knee, working his finger in circles, and Castiel nearly comes off the bed when he adds another, twisting and corkscrewing inside, scissoring his fingers, opening him up.

Castiel's lost in a haze a pleasure, and he's reduced to incoherent mumblings as Dean adds a third finger, thrusting in and out, callused fingertips brushing over his prostate, and he's sweating now, Dean's ignited a fire under his skin.

"Dean. Dean, now, please, god, fuck me, please, please," he mutters, and Dean stops, pulls his fingers out, and kneels between Castiel's legs.

"Condom?" he growls, voice low and gravelly. Castiel tosses him one, and he slips it on quickly, then lubes himself up. Dean pulls Castiel's left leg up and over his shoulder. He lines up, and then he's slowly pushing in, delicious slow burn of him, filling Castiel up, coming to rest against him, Dean breathing hard, and he can tell he's struggling for control, fighting the urge to come right then and there. There's music playing still, but Castiel is just too far gone to figure out what he's hearing or to even really care. All he can think about is what's happening right then and there, all he can focus on is the undeniable fullness of Dean being inside of him.

"God, Cas, so tight, so fucking tight."

"Dean, Dean, move please, please fucking move." Dean nods, and pulls out slowly, almost all of the way, then pushes back in, and Castiel's back arches off the bed.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck," Dean mutters over and over, his thrusts picking up, his hips snapping faster, fucking Castiel hard, force of the thrusts making them travel up the bed.

"Dean, Dean, Dean," is all he can get out, and he reaches up and pulls Dean down by the neck, sinking his tongue deep into his mouth.

"I'm not gonna last, Cas, I can't, I'm gonna come, I'm gonna come!" Dean's breathless, his face flushed, beads of sweat rolling down his skin, and Castiel is just as close to the edge as he is, so completely overloaded and turned on, and he knows he's not going to last any longer than Dean will, and right then, Dean reaches between them and wraps his hand around Castiel's cock, strokes twice, and that's all it takes, Castiel coming with a shout, Dean right behind him, both of them tumbling over the edge together, sweaty bodies collapsing into each other, Dean landing on his chest.

Castiel can feel Dean's heart pounding, can feel his lungs heaving. He cards his fingers through Dean's sweaty hair, leaves a soft kiss on his forehead. They lay in silence for a moment, the only sound in the room is Dean's rough breathing, which grows quieter as it gradually slows.

"Cas, I'm, that was, _holy fuck_."

"My thoughts exactly." They both chuckle, and Castiel wraps his arms tight against Dean, wincing slightly when the other man's cock slips out of him. He gently turns Dean onto his back, and gets out of bed, coming back with a damp washcloth, which he uses to clean them both up, disposing of the used condom in the bathroom.

Dean's almost asleep by the time he crawls back into the bed, and he rolls into Castiel's arms, tucking his head into his favorite spot on Castiel's shoulder, hiding his face in his neck.

"Sleep well, Dean." Castiel murmurs, and he follows him down not long after, music still playing softly in the other room.


	11. Back to Reality

There's a light rain tapping against the windows when Castiel wakes, the light outside dim and gray.

He shifts in the bed, twisting until he's face to face with Dean, who's deeply asleep, lying on his side, face partially buried in the pillow. The sheets have drifted downward, and one leg is on top of them, Dean's back and ass completely bare. Castiel rests his hand on Dean's hip, leans forward and softly kisses the tip of his freckled nose. His eyelids flutter, then slowly open, and he smiles at Castiel, eyes still foggy with sleep.

"Morning," Castiel murmurs.

"Morning," Dean yawns, stretching his arms over his head, sheet slipping away completely. He leans in, hooks a hand around Castiel's neck, pulling him in for a scorching kiss, and it's not long before they're lost in each other again, time slipping away, aware of nothing but the feel, taste, and smell of each other.

Then, it's a hot shower, and round two, Dean holding Castiel up against the shower wall, his legs wrapped around Dean's waist as the other man drives relentlessly into him, hot water beating down on them both, chests heaving, Castiel loving the feel of Dean's strong arms.

Later, they're still wrapped in towels, lying together in the bed, hands everywhere, soft kisses traded back and forth. Their time together is ending for real this time, and Castiel finds himself at a loss, wanting to ask Dean to invite him to Kansas the following weekend, but remembering how skittish he was about starting this relationship to begin with. He decides not to push it, but just to enjoy these last few hours together.

They eventually get out of bed, Dean slipping his jeans back on, exchanging the Stones tee for a worn gray Led Zeppelin shirt. He's very quiet, won't meet Castiel's eyes. They clean up together, finish eating the cheese, bread, and fruit from the night before, then lock up and leave the house. Castiel drives back into NYC, traffic very heavy at ten on a Monday morning.

Once back at his place, he helps Dean gather all of his belongings and pack up. They have the leftover Carbonara for lunch, then Castiel calls for a cab to take them to the airport.

"Did you have a good weekend?" Castiel asks him, as they walk through the terminal.

"I had a great weekend, Cas," Dean says quietly, his eyes downcast. Castiel sighs. Before he's ready for it, they're standing at the gate, Dean about to leave, and Castiel knows he has to say something. He grabs Dean's hand and pulls him roughly away from the gate, the other man looking surprised at the sudden aggression.

"Dean, wait. Look, I had a great time too, and I don't know what you were expecting from this weekend, but you have to know that I have no intention of making this a one-time thing. I want to see you again, and soon. Very soon. Dean, this was one of the best weekends of my life. I can't tell you how much I enjoyed myself."

Dean's face lights up, his eyes sparkle, and Castiel can see the change. _God_, he realizes, _he was scared, he was afraid I wasn't going to want to see him again. _A real smile graces Dean's face, and he responds by wrapping his arms around Castiel, surrounding him in a tight hug.

"Good. That's good. I want to see you again too. I was afraid this was going to be it."

"Are you kidding? After this weekend? All that leaves me wanting is more. Lots and lots more." He cups Dean's chin in his hand. "I'm already pretty friggin' nuts about you, Winchester."

Dean snickers. "Well, that's good to know, 'cause I'm pretty gone on you, too." They smile at each other, then Dean pulls him in for a kiss. "I don't want to leave," he says quietly, pressing their foreheads together.

"I know. But we'll get together soon. I promise."

They kiss a moment more, then Dean's walking through the gate, turning around one last time to wave, then he's swallowed by the crowd, and Castiel's alone again.

* * *

The flight home wasn't nearly as bad as the flight out.

In fact, the plane is already in the air before Dean comes down from the buzz of being with Cas. The flight is completely uneventful, the car Cas hired is waiting for him, and he's back at home in Lawrence around eight, dropping his stuff just inside the door. He goes to the fridge and grabs a beer, then flops into his couch with the bottle and his phone.

He's dialing the number before he even opens the beer.

"Hello, Dean. You made it home safely, then?"

They talk for an hour, reliving the better parts of the weekend, before Dean's exhaustion finally sets in, and he regretfully says good night to Cas, then hauls himself up the stairs, barely remembering to set his alarm before dropping into bed.

The next morning, he's at the shop bright and early, back to reality, smiling as his eyes trace the fresh pin-striping on Crowley's '55. Garth is standing nearby, fidgeting, waiting for the boss's seal of approval. Dean runs his hand along the rear fender, loving the absolute smoothness of the paint under his fingers. The car is fire engine red on the roof and fenders, deepening into an almost black as it gets closer to the floorboards, absolute black along the bottom edges of the body. The pin-stripe is fiery orange, under-laid with a sulfery yellow, swooping and swirling along the lines of the car, and there are almost invisible airbrushed skulls hiding amongst the pin-striped lines.

"Garth, dude, this is beyond perfect. Seriously, it's amazing. Make sure you get Ash to take asstons of pictures for the website. The airbrushing alone, man, so fucking perfect." He claps the smaller man on the back, "so damn proud of you!"

Garth beams, eyes wide and happy. "Man, that's the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me!" he replies happily. Dean laughs as Garth scurries off to get Ash, and Dean moves through the rest of the bays, checking the progress on the other cars, Benny walking with him, giving him progress and status reports on each vehicle.

He's smiling when he plops into his office chair, eyeing the stack of messages laying across his keyboard.

"So, Mr. Edwards wants to know if we can move the Corvette up a week. I told him no, but he apparently has to hear it from you and not your "shop bunny"," Jo says disdainfully, as she plops down in the chair across from Dean's desk, notepad in hand.

"He called you that?"

"Yup."

"What an asshat. I'll call him, tell him who's a shop bunny."

"Don't worry about it." She pages through the notes on her pad. "You need to be here at ten Thursday morning, no matter what."

"I will anyway, but how come?"

"Crowley's coming in. Wants to meet with you, says it's important."

That stops Dean dead in his tracks. "He didn't say anything else? Anything at all?"

"Nope. He seemed pleasant enough, said he was looking forward to seeing the '55."

"Hmm. Better clean up my office a bit," he says, taking in the mess of papers littering his desk.

"Couldn't hurt. So, how was your weekend?"

"Pretty good."

"Pretty good? You took a day off to stay in New York a day longer. You never take time off. Must have been more than "pretty good".

Dean feels his cheeks flame.

"Ok, it was pretty damn great. He took me to see _Wicked_ Saturday, then we went to his restaurant, and ate dinner with Bobby Flay and his wife. Then I met Ted Allen and Barry Rice, and friggin' Michael Symon showed up, he'd actually heard of us, wants us to do a car for him. We ended up at Bobby's house, then the next morning, Cas asked me to stay one more day, so we went out to Long Island, and…well….ahem. It was amazing."

Jo smiles at him. "Look at you. You're practically glowing." She props her elbow on his desk, resting her chin in her hand. "God, it's so romantic."

"Shut up, woman, I do not glow."

"Oh, brotha, you're totally glowin'. Like someone lit you up from the inside." Benny adds, coming in the office, and he drops a stack of work orders on Dean's desk.

"Oh, not you too, dammit."

Benny chuckles.

"So, you invited him for Sam's party right?" Jo asks.

"Um. Well. No, I didn't."

Jo looks incredulous. "Why the hell not?"

"'Cause I can't afford to fly him out here first class, and I'm not about to ask him to buy his own ticket after he flew me out for the weekend, plus I don't even know if he'd even be interested in coming." Dean pulls his phone out of his pocket and tosses his on his desk. "Benny, Mr. Edwards called about his Corvette and called Jo a shop bunny. I'm a little pissed about that."

"Nice change of subject there, Dean. Mighty slick," Benny says, raising an eyebrow so high it almost disappears under the brim of his black hat.

"Dean, you have to call and invite him. You want him to come, don't you?"

"Sure I do, Jo, but, I don't know, he's used to the good life, and I'm just not…"

"Don't even say you're not worth it, or I'll punch you in the face!" Jo retorts angrily.

Benny nods. "And I'll hold ya still so she can."

They both have their arms crossed, and the weight of their combined death stares is more than Dean can handle at the moment.

"I'm not doing this today guys. We have work to do, and a Crowley visit to prepare for. Benny, let's go look at that damn Corvette. Be worth getting it done early just to get rid of that moron." He leaves the office, Benny in tow, and doesn't see Jo snatch his phone off the desk.

* * *

"I think we should scrap the Osso Bucco," Gabe says, plopping down on Castiel's couch. "It's not selling, and I don't think it fits our so-called designation of steak house."

"Ok," Castiel replies absently, standing at the windows and looking down on Central Park. He's missing Dean already. He's supposed to be discussing menu changes with Gabe, and working on his next cookbook, but he's been standing at the window, staring out into New York, thoughts consumed with Dean, wondering what he was doing, where he was, who he was with, what he was wearing.

"And I thought we could add fried donkey anus to the menu, 'cause there isn't enough donkey anus served in this country, and Kali says it's pretty popular in India. Also, I think I'm going to shave my head and get a giant penis tattooed on my scalp. Does that sound good to you?"

"Fine," Castiel says distractedly.

"Oh, Christ, you're gone. You haven't heard a damn thing I've said, have you?"

"I'm sorry, Gabe, I admit, I'm a little distracted."

"Ah, yes, lost in thoughts of a dashing green eyed man, am I right?"

"Yeah." He huffs a sigh, sinking down into the couch next to Gabe.

"What happened? The two of you looked pretty cozy Saturday night. Trouble in paradise already?"

"I don't know. Things were going great, then he mentioned throwing a birthday party for his brother this weekend, and I don't know, I thought he'd invite me. I'm worried that he's afraid for me to meet his family."

"So why don't you straight up ask him?"

"Because he's been hurt before. Badly hurt. He's afraid of this relationship to begin with, and I'm doing my best to convince him I'm not going to just use him up and disappear, but I don't know if I'm getting through. Every time I think we've made progress, it seems like we take a step back."

"I think you should call him. Ask him if you can come. Or just show up on his doorstep Saturday."

"I'm not going to do that. I was, however, thinking about inviting him to Napa."

"You should do that. He'd enjoy it, and you'd get to show off with a date for once."

Castiel's phone rings, and he looks at the caller ID screen. It's a 785 number, but it's not Dean's.

"Hello?"

"_Castiel? Castiel Novak_?" It's a female voice he doesn't recognize.

"Yes, this is him. Who's calling?"

"_My name's Jo Harvelle and we need to talk_."

* * *

Wednesday is spent cleaning the shop, and the office, Dean demanding that the '55 be waxed and ready to go, even though they'd just done it Tuesday.

By Thursday, he's a nervous wreck, dumping Pepto Bismal down his throat, drinking it like its water, and he's just vacuumed the office and showroom for the third time. Jo keeps yelling at him to calm down, but she's just as worked up, arranging and rearranging the showroom in the wake of Dean's frantic vacuuming. The only one of them that seems to be completely unruffled is Benny, who's currently lounging in Dean's desk chair, boots up on the desk, coffee mug in hand.

"You should seriously think about lettin' off the gas, brotha, you're runnin' around here like your ass is on fire," he drawls.

Dean slaps his boots off the desk, and Benny curses as he almost drops his coffee. "Dude, get out of my office!"

"He's here!" Jo shrieks, running into Dean's office. "He's fucking here and he has an entourage!"

"Oh crap, oh crap, oh crap." Dean's at the showroom door in an instant, watching as a short man in a dapper black suit pulls himself out of limo. He's joined by two equally well dressed ladies, both with dark hair, one of whom is holding a black briefcase.

He stops in the lot, eyes sweeping the building, and Dean suddenly realizes his hands are shaking.

"Ok, Winchester, let's get this show on the road." Dean pushes open the door, and walks out to the lot, extending a hand, as he smiles at Crowley. "Mr. Crowley? Good to see you again."

Crowley turns and smiles at him, an insincere thing, and ignores Dean's offered hand.

"Hello, boy. Where's my car?" he asks, his English accent somehow making him seem more imposing.

"Right here," Dean says, as he pulls up the first bay door. The '55 sits inside, shiny and perfect. Crowley takes his time, walks around the car, his face inscrutable. He runs his hands down the fenders, peeks in the interior, adjusts a side view mirror. He does this for five long minutes, Dean's stomach twisting nervously, Benny coming to stand beside him.

"It's perfect," Crowley says finally. "And a damn good thing, this one's for me, and won't be going to auction. It looks exactly like I wanted it. Fine job. Now, let's go to your office and discuss some other business." Crowley sweeps out of the bay, charging into the showroom like he owns the place. Dean raises his eyebrow and looks at Benny, who shrugs.

Crowley's sitting behind Dean's desk, like he's the owner, when Dean gets to his office. He indicates the women with him.

"My associates, Meg and Ruby," he says. They both nod at him. "Have a seat Mr. Winchester."

"Um. You're in my seat," Dean retorts. Crowley looks around, seems genuinely confused. "Never mind," Dean says as he sits in the seat across from him.

"Long story short," Crowley begins, "I'm more than impressed with the work you've done for me so far. The cars have all brought quite the sum of money in the auctions, far more than I expected. The '55 Chevy was a test. You passed. Therefore, I'm here to invest."

"Um, what?" Dean sputters.

"Invest. I wish to invest in your company. I want to be a silent partner, put money into Winchester and Sons, and make you even more well-known than you are now. I'm prepared to drop a substantial amount of money in to start. I was thinking $750,000?"

Dean's eyes widen, and he sucks in a hard breath before continuing. "You, um, you want to invest money? In my company? Why?"

"Because you've got the potential to make money hand over fist here. I have connections that can push you along, and you need to expand, and I can provide the money for that."

"And what do you want in return?"

"Silent partnership, and 30% of all profits."

"30%?"

"It's reasonable. Meg darling, fetch the contracts." He leans back in Dean's chair, grinning expansively.

"Wait, I'm not signing a damn thing. I haven't agreed to anything, and I'd need a lawyer to look everything over before I agree to any of this!"

"Fair enough, have your Moose look everything over and get back to me. I'm willing to give you some time."

"Don't call my brother that."

"My apologies," he says insincerely.

The woman, Meg, drops a large stack of papers on the desk.

"There you go. Have a look-see and get back to me. I'll give you until next Friday." He stands, sweeping out of the office, the girls following him. "I'll send a man for the car. Don't keep me waiting, Winchester." He's gone, and Dean's staring at the stack of papers on his desk.

He feels blindsided. He feels violated. He thinks about the money, he knows Crowley's good for it, but he doesn't trust the man. If he does it, it's going to feel like selling his soul.

Dean stands and shoves all the papers into his laptop bag. He'll let Sammy comb through them and give him the Cliff Notes. He's feeling way too overwhelmed to make sense of them himself.

The rest of the day goes by slowly, Dean's frustration growing. He tries to make a grocery list for Sam's party, but all he really wants to do is talk to Cas. They've barely had a chance for a chat all week, he's been so damn busy, and Cas was working on recipes for a new cookbook and didn't seem to have much time for Dean either.

Dean finally leaves the shop around six, leaving a note on Jo's desk to remind her he'll be busy with party prep all day tomorrow, and to take messages for him. He drives through Lawrence on autopilot, tired and worn out, missing Cas more than he can possibly say.

Pulling into his driveway, he notices a dark colored sedan parked on the street in front of his house, but he doesn't really pay it any attention. He checks the mail, shoving the stack of bills and other crap into his laptop bag. Walking up the porch steps, he nearly falls off the top step when a gravelly voice speaks from the far end of the porch.

"Hello, Dean."

* * *

He watches the Impala pull in, frowning as Dean pulls himself from the car.

Dean looks exhausted, and he walks wearily from the car to the mailbox, frowning at the stack of mail he pulls out then stuffs into his bag. He walks up the sidewalk, and he's on the top porch step before Castiel finally speaks.

"Hello, Dean."

"JESUS FUCKING CHRIST!" Dean shrieks, stumbling back and almost falling off the steps.

"Nope, Castiel Novak. Nice to meet you." He smiles, stands, and pulls Dean into his arms, breathing in the scent of him. "God, I missed you."

Dean pulls away, eyes wide. "What are you doing here?"

"A little birdie told me you wanted me here this weekend but was afraid I'd be upset if I couldn't fly first class, and that you couldn't afford first class, and somehow got this silly idea in your head that I would be insulted if you asked me to fly on my own dime."

Dean sighs.

"So, I took it upon myself to show up anyway, and I'm prepared to sous chef for you for the next several days, and meet your amazing family on Saturday, including the lovely young lady who dropped a dime on you."

"Jo."

"Jo. Who deftly stole your phone off your desk when you weren't looking and got my number. She's spunky, by the way."

"My family, dude, can't leave anything alone." He shakes his head.

"So, you don't want me here?"

"Fuck, Cas, of course I want you here. I just don't want to come off as some kind of deadbeat. You did so much for me last weekend, and I don't know how I'd ever even begin to come close, and…"

Castiel kisses him, pulling him in tight, deepening the kiss when he feels Dean relax against him.

"You still talk too much," he growls, and Dean finally smiles at him.

"I'm really glad you're here."

"Me, too."

Dean lets him into the house, still smiling like an idiot.


	12. The Cakehole Rule

Dean orders Chinese, and they curl up on his couch, sharing Kung Pao Chicken and Pork Fried Rice.

He puts in _The Princess Bride_, after discovering that Cas has never seen it, (there may have been some incredulous yelling of "inconceivable" involved), and now he's driving Castiel slightly crazy with his obsessive quoting, spouting off nonsense about peanuts, and R.O.U.S., Dread Pirates, and True Love.

Dean feels warm all over, snuggled up tight next to Cas, so unbelievably happy to have him on his couch, in his house, and here for the weekend. Chinese set aside, it's not long before they're horizontal on the couch, Cas on top, making out like horny teenagers, hands everywhere. Tees vanish like magic, and Cas has got Dean's jeans and boxers worked halfway down his legs, Cas's pants are down past his ass, things are just heating up, and Dean's thinking about moving this whole operation upstairs when his front door slams and a second later, there's a voice.

"Dean? Dean, you here? Dean, hello, I'm…HOLY FUCKING MOTHER OF FUCKING CHRIST!"

Dean makes a noise halfway between a shriek and a sob, as Cas calmly grabs the throw off the back of the couch and covers them both, but Dean's frantic, trying to yank his pants up with Castiel still on top of him and somehow manages to tumble them both off the couch, exposing his ass again.

"Oh my God! I need eye bleach!" Adam screams, as he runs from the room, the downstairs bathroom door slamming shut a moment later.

"Crap, crap!" Dean moans, trying to separate himself from Cas, who's grinning up at him like this is the funniest thing he's ever seen. "Stop laughing and help me!"

"I'm sorry. It's funny. That's Adam right? Do your brothers make it a habit of letting themselves in at ten o'clock at night?"

"No, it's my fault! I forgot he was coming, we're supposed to go birthday shopping tomorrow. He was going to spend the night, then we were going to hang out all day tomorrow. Crap. Crap. Crap!" Dean finally gets himself disentangled from Cas, and they both get redressed.

"Is it safe?" a muffled voice calls from the hallway.

"Yeah, it's fine!" Dean yells back, face flushed red as a beet, he's sure of it, judging by the heat in his cheeks. He grabs the Chinese food containers and drops them on the counter. It gives him no pleasure that Adam is just as red-faced when he finally emerges from the bathroom. The only one who seems completely unflustered is Cas.

"So," Dean begins, clearing his throat uncomfortably, "Adam Milligan, meet Cas, um Castiel Novak, my um, my _boyfriend_."

* * *

Watching both Dean and Adam squirm is enough to make Castiel want to die of laughter.

After introductions and red-faced explanations are made, and Adam's polished off the Chinese, he settles down on the couch to watch the rest of the movie while Castiel gently pulls Dean upstairs to finish what they started.

He runs a bath in Dean's spacious bathroom, filling the large Jacuzzi tub, then he slowly undresses Dean again, peppering his freckled skin with kisses.

"I'm so sorry, Cas, I was just so damn happy to see you and I forgot he was coming. I'm an idiot."

"It's ok, let's just sit in the tub and relax a while."

Dean nods, and lets Castiel pull him into the warm water, Castiel settling in first, then pulling Dean's back against his chest. Dean pushes a button and the jets switch on, and Castiel feels his body relax against him.

"I had a shit day at work. Coming home and finding you on my porch was the greatest thing ever. I just completely blanked on Adam. You won't mind hanging out with him and me tomorrow, will you?"

"No, of course not. I want to meet your family, Dean, I want to be part of every aspect of your life. Will you show me your shop while I'm here this time?"

"Sure," Dean replies sleepily. "This is so comfortable." He's completely relaxed against Castiel, body warm and pliant, looking like he could doze off, in fact, Dean's eyelids drift shut even as Castiel thinks it. He gently rinses Dean's hair, reaches for a bottle of shampoo, then puts a glob in his hand. Dean hums contentedly as Castiel massages the soap into his hair, then he reaches out to shut off the jets. "If I leave them on, the soap will drown us in bubbles," he explains, Castiel laughing at the mental picture.

"That would be interesting."

"That would be a mess. Been there, done that," Dean chuckles, his voice low and gravelly. Castiel massages his scalp with the very tips of his fingers, then he uses a washcloth to gently rinse the soapy water away. Next, he adds a dollop of Dean's coconut body wash to the washcloth, and begins washing Dean's body, the smell getting in his nose, and he's instantly turned on.

"You know, I bought a bottle of this stuff," he murmurs, as he slides the cloth across Dean's chest. "I get a whiff of it, and it's like you're there with me. I use it in the shower, and I get myself off, and I can close my eyes and breathe in, and pretend the hand on me is yours. It's fucking hot. I can't smell this stuff without getting hot." Castiel drops the washcloth, and lets his hand wander, not at all surprised when he finds Dean's just as hard as he is.

"Cas," Dean whimpers, voice already wrecked. Castiel puts more soap on his hand, lathering Dean up, the other man breathing shakily. He leans his head back on Castiel's shoulder, turning his face to the side for a kiss, as Castiel increases the speed of his strokes. He lets his other hand travel under the water, fingers dancing along the curve of Dean's ass, sliding his hand upward, fingertips finding that tight circle of muscle.

Dean gasps, and jerks against him, as he slides just the tip of his finger inside.

"Fuck. Oh fuck. Fuck," he pants, hips moving involuntarily.

"You like that," Castiel growls in his ear. "Does it feel good?" He pushes further in, and Dean's whole body arches out of the tub.

"FUCK!" Dean shouts, and his cock twitches in Castiel's grip, and he comes hard, coating his belly and Castiel's hand, and Castiel is surprised to find himself coming as well, completely untouched, so turned on by Dean's reaction to his fingers. "Fuck. Fuck. Fuck," he whines, collapsing back into Castiel's arms. "Christ."

"I want to fuck you, Dean. I want to fuck you so bad. I want to feel every part of you. God, the things you do to me. Make me crazy."

Dean's eyes widen, he looks a little bit alarmed, and he looks down, clearly embarrassed. "Um. Fuck, Cas, I'm not, I'm not sure I'm ready for that." Dean whispers, skin flushing bright red.

"It's ok," Castiel breathes in his ear, "I'll be here when you are."

* * *

Dean wakes the next morning to an empty bed, and he panics, scared that Cas left during the night.

Then he hears voices from downstairs, and Cas's rich laugh, and his fear dissipates. He can tell by the steam in the bathroom that Cas has already showered, so he takes one as well, then dresses in his old Zep tee and worn out jeans, the same outfit he'd had on the day he met Cas. Dean leaves his boots in the closet, deciding instead to wear his old ratty sneakers.

Heading back into the bathroom, he's annoyed when he realizes he still hasn't replaced his hair gel, and it's going to be a fluffy hair day again. Oh well, Cas seems to like it. He also foregoes shaving, remembering the last time he didn't shave, and how Cas couldn't seem to keep his hands off his face.

Back in the bedroom, he makes his bed quickly, then grabs his sneakers, padding down the stairs in his socks. Adam is sitting at the table, inhaling a stack of pancakes drowned in syrup, and he grunts at him when Dean enters the kitchen. Cas is standing at his stove, in tight black jeans and Dean's white vintage Stones tee, flipping more pancakes. Dean wraps his arms around his waist, and kisses his neck.

"Good morning," he murmurs in Cas's ear. "Smells good. I like you in my shirt." He nibbles lightly on Cas's neck.

"Get a room!"

"Get out of my house!" Dean yells back, sticking his tongue out at Adam. Cas chuckles and hands Dean a mug of coffee, black, just the way he likes it.

"Sit down, I'll bring you some breakfast."

"Ok," Dean says happily, and he goes to the table and plops into a chair beside Adam, who grins at him.

"He's pretty great," Adam says under his breath. "Don't fuck this up."

Dean glares at Adam, a snarky comeback on the tip of his tongue, but Cas sits down next to him, two plates of pancakes in hand, dripping with butter and syrup. Taking a bite, he lets out an appreciative moan. The pancakes are light and fluffy, perfect and delicious and melting in his mouth.

"Yeah, they are pretty damn good. Having a chef for a boyfriend definitely has it perks, huh, Dean?"

"It sure does," Dean replies with feeling. He smiles at Cas, who smiles back, and they just sit there staring at each other for a minute until Adam noisily clears his throat.

"Yeah. I'm going to go take a shower," he grumbles as he stands, taking his dishes to the kitchen. "Although I think you guys could use a cold one," he mutters under his breath. "Thanks for breakfast, Cas."

"You're very welcome."

Dean barely notices him leaving, or the bathroom door shutting, he's too busy smiling at Cas.

"Pancakes are really good," he tells him dreamily. "I could get used to you cooking for me."

"I could get used to cooking for you." Cas leans forward, captures Dean's mouth, taste of butter and syrup on his lips. He pulls away after a moment, both of them breathless, and rests his forehead on Dean's. "I'm so happy I'm here."

"I'm happy you're here, too."

* * *

Adam's a trip, Castiel decides, almost like a younger, but just as snarky, version of Dean.

He's in the back seat of the Impala, deliberately singing the wrong words to Kansas' _Carry on Wayward Son_, and Adam's version has Castiel half bent over with laughter, amusement compounded by the fact that Dean can't maintain his irritated and grumpy façade, corners of his mouth turning up at the sides, Adam's lyrics just too damn funny.

"_Carry on my wayward cow! Aren't you glad you're not a sow? Lay your bovine head to rest, don't you moo no more!"_

Adam's giggling like a hysterical five year old in the back seat, tears running down his cheeks, beyond amused at his own joke.

"Friggin' child," Dean grumbles, an unmistakable note of fondness in his voice. "No respect for classic rock whatsoever. Him and Sam both. Friggin' children."

Adam laughs louder, then leans forward, resting his chin on the front seat. "Has he dropped the "cakehole" rule on you yet?"

"Shut up, Adam."

"What's the cakehole rule?" Castiel asks, aware of Dean shaking his head and glaring out the window.

"Oh, what is he special or something? No cakehole rule for the boyfriend?"

"Damn straight, it's only for annoying little brothers who think they're special enough to change my music."

"So what is the cakehole rule?"

"The cakehole rule," Adam giggles, "is Dean's mantra. Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole."

"Sounds like a good rule to have."

"Thank you!" Dean yells.

"Oh come on! It's a shitty rule when you're stuck in the car with this moron for eight hours and all he wants to listen to is Metallica and Led Zeppelin ad nauseum, then he informs you that even if he's not driving, car ownership trumps driver, so he still gets to control the music! He's a goddamn dictator!"

"Not my fault you and Sam have terrible taste in music."

"I like Zep too, douchebag, but no one needs to hear _Physical Graffiti_ fourteen times in a row!"

"It's musical genius!"

Castiel laughs, loving the banter between the two. He can't wait to see what happens when Sam joins the mix, that's probably going to be very, very funny.

"So what'd you get old Bitchsquatch, anyway?"

"I copped out and bought him a fancy watch. He loves his damn watches. You?"

"Nothing. Was hoping you could help me find something."

"What does he like? I should get him something too. Thirty is an important birthday."

"Don't worry about it, Cas. Adam, I know he needs a new KU hoodie."

"Aww, did his big ole muscles get too big for the old one?"

Dean cracks up. "Yeah, sure. I don't know. Jess just said he needed a new one, was trying to give me ideas."

"Cool, hoodie it is. What'd Jess get him?"

"Dunno, she wouldn't tell me."

"Ooh, top secret. Me like."

"I would like to get something for him as well. Would that be ok?" Castiel smiles at Dean. "I can't go to a birthday party without a present."

"Seriously, you don't have to, but if you want to, Adam and I will help you pick something out." Dean smiles back at him, they lock eyes, and just stare, until Adam noisily clears his throat.

"Dude. Light's green, Dean."

Dean flushes, Castiel laughs, and Adam groans.

"And I have to spend the whole day with you. God help me." He flops dramatically back against the seat, but his blue eyes catch Castiel's in the review mirror, and there's a smile in there.

This is going to be a good day.

* * *

It takes them all day to get everything done, and Dean thinks he's never going to be done hauling in grocery bags.

His kitchen is drowning in them, groceries stacked on every available surface, and he and Adam have been taking turns running all the extra stuff down the spare fridge in the basement. Cas is helpfully sorting out everything, making piles of meat, veggies, and other crap.

"The sooner we get this done, the sooner I can show you two how to make homemade pizza dough, and we can have dinner."

Adam looks at Dean, eyes wide, and by unspoken agreement, they both move faster, getting the kitchen squared away in record time, spurred on by the very mention of homemade pizza.

An hour later, Adam and Dean are both watching in awe as Cas deftly tosses rounds of dough in the air. Adam is leaning his elbow on the island, chin resting in his hand, eyes following the dough as it flies up in the air and is skillfully caught and tossed again.

"I think I'm in love with your boyfriend," he grins, cracking up more when Dean playfully slaps the back of his head.

"Hands off. Get your own celebrity chef!"

Cas smirks at them both, finally dropping the dough onto a pizza pan. Dean helps him add sauce, cheese, sausage, pepperoni, onions, mushrooms and green peppers. Adam busies himself pulling three beer bottles from the fridge and popping the tops. They all stand in the kitchen, drinking the beer, Dean and Adam's mouths watering as the smell starts to fill the kitchen.

The timer goes off, and Cas pulls a beautifully browned, bubbling pie from the oven. Adam opens three more beers, Dean grabs plates, then they all end up on his couch, Dean in the middle, _Top Gun_ on the TV.

Adam's making very interesting noises next to him, clearly deeply moved by the pizza. Dean takes a bite, and it's amazing, saucy, and cheesy, and just about damn perfect. He snuggles up closer to Cas, all of them contentedly eating pizza and drinking beer, making fun of Tom Cruise, and quoting their favorite lines from the movie.

Bringing them all another beer, Adam plops back down on the couch with the last piece of pizza, grinning at Dean.

"You can keep him, big bro. He's pretty awesome, he can cook, and you are way better behaved with him around."

Cas laughs loudly at Adam's statement.

"Thanks," Dean says drily.

They stay on the couch, Adam actually snuggling up on Dean, five beers in now, and definitely buzzing, and Dean's amused at the puppy pile they're making on the couch. It's peaceful, and comfortable, and he's loving every minute of it.

Then Adam perks up and suggests a poker game.

* * *

Unfortunately, they're all very, very good at poker.

Which means Adam's suggestion of "losers have to take a shot" has managed to intoxicate all of them. There's an empty bottle of Tequila in the middle of Dean's coffee table. Adam's sprawled on the couch, Dean on the floor, and Castiel's sitting on the floor, his back against the couch.

Adam holds his cards over his head, trying to focus on them, then gives up and lets them fall onto his face and the floor.

"Go fish!" he mumbles, turning his face towards the back of the couch. Dean starts laughing, shrieking _go fish _over and over, laughing so hard there are tears rolling down his cheeks, and Adam raises his hand and offers Dean a one-fingered salute, which only serves to make him laugh harder. The Winchester boys are _gone_. Castiel is definitely not feeling any pain whatsoever, but he won more hands than they did, so he's not as badly wasted.

Dean finally stops laughing, just down to silly little giggles, and he crawls around the table, dropping his head, face-down, into Castiel's lap. He runs his hand through Dean's fluffy hair, loving how it feels without the hair gel.

"So drunk," he says, his words completely muffled in Castiel's jeans.

"That you are. Adam's pretty gone, too."

"You're ok. What the fuck?"

"I'm good and buzzed, but I did win more hands than you did."

Dean hiccups, rolls over and sits up. He climbs into Castiel's lap, and grinds against him, big smile on his face, leaning in for a kiss, which Castiel is more than happy to provide, slipping his tongue into Dean's mouth, taste of Tequila on his lips. He deepens the kiss, Dean letting out a little hum of contentment.

"Christ. You fuckers go get a room or something. I'm trying to fucking pass out here." Adam's glaring at them through alcohol fuzzed eyes.

"My apologies," Castiel smiles. "Come on, Dean. Good night, Adam." Castiel pulls Dean to his feet, and the other man wavers a bit but manages to stay upright. He gets him to the bottom of the stairs, then Dean stops and grins ridiculously at Castiel.

"Cas, you big stud! Take me to bed or lose me forever!" Dean laughs hysterically, slumping against Castiel's chest.

"Did you really just quote _Top Gun_ at me?" he asks with a smile.

"Yes," Dean says seriously, "yes I did." Then he dissolves into giggles again.

"Come on, Maverick, let's get you into bed."

He drags Dean up the stairs, and a few minutes later, Adam, the movie, the booze, it's all forgotten, and they're lost in each other again.


	13. Roses on the Cake

Dean's not at all surprised to wake up alone Saturday morning.

He's starting to get used to Cas's early rising, not to mention, he was beyond wasted the night before. Stretching in the sheets, he realizes he has absolutely no desire to get up, and would like to just park his naked butt right here in this bed for pretty much the rest of the day. And he wants Cas to join him. A second after he thinks that, his bedroom door opens, and Cas appears, smiling, two mugs in hand. He's got Dean's Stones shirt on again, and a pair of black boxers.

"Good morning," he smiles, pushing the door shut with his foot.

"Good morning. What time is it?"

"About seven-thirty-ish. Adam's still passed out on the couch, so I didn't make breakfast, but I did bring you some coffee." He hands one of the mugs to Dean as he crawls back into the bed. They snuggle close, sipping the hot coffee, Dean starting to get drowsy again, and before he knows it, he's dozing back off, Cas carefully taking the mug out of his hand.

When he wakes again, the sun in his windows is a bit brighter, and Cas is naked again, back pressed against Dean's chest. He's awake though, and shifts his hips, pushing his ass back against Dean.

"Mmm, what a way to wake up," Dean murmurs, leaning forward to kiss the back of Cas's neck.

"It gets better," Cas growls, and he reaches back for Dean's hand, pulling it down between them. He directs Dean's fingers to his entrance, and he's already lubed and open. "I got ready for you. I want you to fuck me, Dean."

"Jesus Christ Cas, you really are trying to kill me."

"Shut up and fuck me dammit."

"Christ, dude, ok. Got a condom?"

"Fuck the condom."

Dean chuckles, then pulls Cas's leg up over his own, sliding his thigh in between, lining up, and pushing in. Cas groans and arches back against Dean, reaches for his hand and intertwines their fingers. Cas is so damn tight, Dean's sure he's going to come in an instant if he moves.

"Fuck, Cas, this is one hell of way to wake a guy up."

"Less talking, dammit."

Dean chuckles again, then pulls out, thrusts back in, setting up a gentle rhythm, leaning forward to kiss Cas's neck and shoulders. Cas pulls their joined hands forward and wraps them around his cock, and there's lube there to.

"Fuck, Cas," Dean groans, "you really are ready."

"Mmhmm."

They move slowly, Dean keeping a steady rhythm going, hand keeping a steady stroke on Cas's cock. It's slow, and lazy, and _Christ_, Dean thinks, _cuddly_.

Cas is breathing hard, his dick twitching in their intertwined fingers, and Dean's skating the edge as well, his thrusts becoming harder, and more erratic, Cas grinding his hips back into Dean's lap, a steady stream of breathy little sounds falling out of his mouth.

"So close, Dean, so close," Cas gasps, and Dean works his other arm under him, wrapping it up and around his chest, pulling him in tighter. The heat is gathering in his belly, and he leans forward again, snags Cas's earlobe in his teeth, biting down gently, and Cas comes with a whined _Dean_, and spills over their joined hands.

Dean's not far behind, one or two more hard thrusts, and he's done, and they just lay there a while, soaking each other in.

Cas rolls on his back, leans over and kisses Dean, sweet and slow.

"Come take a shower with me?"

"Let's just stay here," Dean yawns.

"We've got a lot to do today."

"I know. It's what, nine?"

Cas nods.

"Set an alarm for nine-thirty or something. Just lay here, just a while." His eyes are already closed, he's already drifting back off, and he feels Cas kiss his cheek, whisper ok in his ear, and half a second later, he's gone, peaceful, warm and content in the arms of his lover.

* * *

Castiel doesn't go back to sleep.

He gets up from the bed, and fetches a damp washcloth from the bathroom, and gently cleans Dean, then tucks him back under the wrecked sheets. Dean twists onto his belly when Castiel's done, arms spread and face half buried in the pillow.

It's warm and peaceful in Dean's room, sun streaming through the wide window, curtains dancing in the slight breeze. Looks like a beautiful day outside, which is truly a good thing, since Dean said most of the party will take place outside in Dean's big backyard. His friend Benny is bringing his barbeque grill over as well, and Dean's rented a bunch of extra chairs and tables.

Apparently, birthdays were never really celebrated when the Winchester brothers were children, and Dean's going to make sure Sam's 30th is one he absolutely never forgets.

At 9:30, Castiel starts to wake Dean, with soft kisses on his nose and cheeks, although he'd love to allow him to continue sleeping. As creepy as some would think it was, he loves to watch him sleep. Dean carries a lot of unnecessary weight on his shoulders, and sleep is one of those few times when it's completely gone, when the lines disappear from Dean's face, and the worry is gone, and he's peaceful, and Castiel loves it. He loves to watch the little twitches his face makes when he's dreaming, loves watching his eyes move under closed lids. He loves the soft, breathy sighs he makes when he shifts, the involuntary noises he makes when Castiel kisses him.

Dean opens one brilliant green eye and peers out at Castiel, who's laying on his side, inches from Dean's face.

"There are mountains of potatoes in his your kitchen demanding to be peeled."

Dean groans and buries his face all the way into the pillow. He grumbles something, his voice muffled, and Castiel's pretty sure it was something like _fuck the potatoes_.

"I understand. Your bed is very comfortable. I love your room. It's so nice up here, I love the color, and the wood furniture. It's much homier than my place."

Dean turns his head again and smiles at him. "I wondered about that. The restaurant is so warm and cozy and your place just…isn't."

"I bought it like that. Designed by some fancy New York interior designer that decided that was the kind of place a fancy New York chef should live. This," he indicated Dean's room with a wave of his arm, "is so much more my style. The mismatched wood pieces, the white bedding, the gorgeous blue on the walls? I feel like I'm on vacation here, on some beautiful tropical island."

"That was the idea," Dean replies with a smile. "I wanted this room to remind me of Hawaii. The color is really close to the color of the room Sam and I stayed in, and damn close to the color of the water. Even the picture over the bed is one I took from the top of Diamond Head."

"I should repaint my place, and get rid of that stupid white couch and the tribal art. Maybe you can help me."

"Sure. I could take a few weekends and come up and help you."

"Awesome." Castiel kisses him, sweet and languidly. "You know what else I love about your house? Besides the fact that you live here?"

Dean chuckles. "What?"

"Your amazing shower. I seriously love your shower. And I think we should get in it."

"Give me one good reason I should get out of bed," Dean grumbles.

"Homemade French toast."

"And I'm up!"

* * *

Dean's up to his elbows in ground beef, mixing in all his special seasonings, getting ready to form the patties, and lay them on the trays Cas has lined up next him.

Adam's out back, scrubbing down his deck. The rental company has just dropped off all the tables and chairs, and Cas is coming back in from moving his rental car down the street. He comes over and stands behind Dean, wrapping his arms around his waist and dropping sweet little kisses on his neck. There's Journey playing on his stereo, the whole house is opened up, breezes coming in through the windows, and Dean is so damn content he doesn't know what to do with himself.

"I'll start slicing the tomatoes and onions, ok?"

"Perfect. Thanks."

"My pleasure."

Dean watches out of the corner of his eye as Cas gathers the vegetables and cutting board. Dean starts pulling handfuls of meat from the mixing bowl, forming them into perfect patties with a tiny divot in the middle, to help them cook evenly, and laying them, one by one, on the trays. He makes thirty, covers them, and washes his hands.

They've been so busy, but with Cas there to help, the chores have been downright fun, peeling potatoes and shredding cabbage, making potato salad and cole slaw, deviled eggs, veggie trays, brownies, so much food, but with Cas by his side, stealing kisses and sharing the work, it's been more fun than Dean's had in a long time.

"Yo, honey, I'm home," Jo calls, walking in like she owns the place, hidden by dozens of white and red balloons and a giant cake box. "Little help, fuckers!"

"Jesus, you and your mouth."

"Fuck you Adam, and help me out here."

Adam takes the cake box and sets in on the counter.

Jo lets the balloons go, and zeroes in on Cas, completely ignoring Dean's presence in the kitchen. "Oh, hello there, handsome," she smiles, "I'm Jo. Obviously, you're the oft spoken of Castiel Novak?"

"Indeed, and thanks for inviting me."

"Yeah, thanks Jo," Dean says honestly. She smiles in return. Dean moves over to the cake box and pulls open the lid. "ROSES?! Seriously, Jo, you had one job! One fucking job!"

"Well, next time you get the cake, asshat! Bakers put roses on shit!"

"Sam's gonna kill me!"

"What? It's all Stanfordesque red and white, and if we get him drunk enough, he won't care anyway!"

Dean considers this for a moment.

"Hmm. Alcohol works." He and Jo grin at each other. "Besides, he's a princess, it fits. Anyway, Jo, this is Cas, and thanks, seriously, for having more balls than me and inviting him."

Cas holds out his hand, which Jo completely ignores, pulling him into a tight hug instead.

"It's wonderful to meet you. In person, that is."

"Indeed. Thank you for inviting me."

"No problem. Yo, Adam, come help me get all this decorating shit out of my car!" She and Adam head back outside, bickering at each other the whole way.

"God, the mouth on that girl," Dean laments.

"She reminds me of you."

"Thanks."

"It's not a bad thing," Cas whispers into his neck as he wraps his arms around Dean's waist, "but you're ten times hotter, if that makes you feel better."

"It does," Dean grins, turning in Cas's arms, leaning in for a kiss, which quickly goes from chaste to X-rated, and they're very into it, not really paying attention to anything around them, and when they finally separate, there's clapping behind them. Dean's cheeks heat.

"That was beautiful. Seriously. You guys should film that shit," Jo giggles as she walks past, heading out to the deck.

Dean drops his head onto Cas's shirt.

"My family," Dean groans into Cas's chest.

"I love them."

Dean smiles.

"Yeah, me too."

* * *

By seven, the party is in full swing, all of Dean's family and friends crowding the little house, spilling out into the backyard.

Castiel's been introduced to everyone, with warm smiles, and hugs, and everyone seems genuinely glad to meet him.

Bobby and Ellen arrive not long after Jo, Bobby with a case of beer under each arm, Ellen with a bushel of corn on the cob. They both hug Castiel, and welcome him to the family, Dean beaming at them the whole time.

Benny Lafitte and his wife, Andrea, and their daughters Emilie and Marie-Grace are the next to arrive, Benny with another case of beer, and the girls clearly happy to see Dean, if the loud squeals of _Uncle Dean_ are any clue. He gathers from their accents that they're from somewhere in Louisiana.

After the Lafittes, people start coming in pretty quickly, and it's hard for Castiel to keep up with everyone he's introduced too. Jo is by his side now, Dean and Benny having moved out to the deck to fire up their grills. He meets a man named Rufus, and Ash and Garth from the shop, Lisa and Victor Henrikson, and Ben, Dean's son. Ben's very pleasant, and shakes Castiel's hand like a man, and he can see Dean's fire in the boy's eyes.

Castiel's on the front porch, sharing a beer with Bobby, getting the _don't hurt him or we'll kill you_ speech, when a black BMW M5 pulls up.

The man that gets out is, for lack of a better term, huge. He's got to be at least 6'4", shaggy brown hair, wearing a short sleeved plaid shirt and jeans. He's wearing dark glasses, and as he gets out of the car, he runs a massive hand through his hair. Moving around to the other side of the car, he opens the passenger door, and reaches his hand inside, helping a gorgeous blonde to her feet. She smiles up at him, and he leans down for a kiss.

"Sam, Jess!" Bobby hollers from the porch, and moves out to greet them.

Sam, Castiel thinks, wow, Dean was right, he is tall. And not just tall, _big_, huge muscled arms and back straining against his shirt. Suddenly, Dean streaks past him leaping off the porch, completely bypassing the stairs, and attack hugs his brother. Laughing, Sam lifts him and spins him around. The blonde giggles, and Dean leans down to kiss her cheek. He turns, and sees Castiel standing on the porch, and waves him over.

"Castiel Novak, this is my awesome not-so-little brother, Sam, and his way-out-of-his-league wife, Jess."

Sam pulls off his glasses and smiles, then grabs Castiel in a bear hug. Jess hugs him as well. "Dude, I'm happy to meet you. Dean can't stop talking about you."

"Nor you. It's a pleasure, Sam, and Jess."

Dean is standing there, grinning like an idiot, clearly thrilled to have him and Sam in the same place.

"Happy Birthday, Sam."

"Thanks! Dean's been threatening me with this party since I turned twenty-eight. Dude," he says, turning to Dean, "there'd better not be roses on my cake."

Dean smiles innocently. "Dude, seriously, you know me better than that." He tosses an arm around Sam's broad back. "C'mon lil bro, let's go get a beer." He turns and winks at Castiel, and leads Sam into the house. Jess slips her arm through his and smiles up at him.

"There's totally roses on that cake, isn't there?" she asks quietly.

"Yes," he confirms, and grins, letting Jess pull him back into the house, already feeling like he belongs.

* * *

Dean's happily chugging down a beer, curled up on a chaise lounge on his deck, leaning up against Cas, who keeps putting little kisses on his neck.

He's pleasantly buzzed, stuffed with food, surrounded by his family, and Cas, who he's decided is also family, and Sam's opening gifts. Jo was right, alcohol did the trick, and Sam laughed uproariously when he saw the roses on the cake. He's got a pile of gifts at his feet, a new KU hat from Rufus perched haphazardly on his head, the new briefcase Cas got him on the chair next to him, and his new watch from Dean already on his wrist.

Taking another sip of beer, Dean leans further back against Cas, snuggling back into his arms, contentment settling over him like a blanket. Right now, he has everything he wants. His family is all here, everyone's having a good time, everyone's getting along, and no one seems to give a flying fuck that the person making him smile like a maniac, the person placing soft kisses on his neck and rubbing his shoulders, the person making his whole world glow with rose colored-light, just happens to be a guy.

No one cares. No one.

All they seem to care about is how happy Dean is. How he can't stop smiling.

God, he's happy. He's insanely happy. He might even be in love. And maybe, maybe this is it, maybe he's really figured it out this time, and maybe this is his forever. Maybe Cas is his forever. Maybe he'll get to spend the rest of his life waking up to blue eyes, and soft kisses, and making love in the early light of dawn, standing in the kitchen drinking coffee with the dark haired man that's completely upended his world, and changed his life, all in two short weeks.

Maybe. Maybe he can have this.

Jess stands, and brings a box over and lays it on Sam's lap. Sam's laughing, his cheeks pleasantly flushed, having replaced the KU hat with the "Old Fart" hat Ash just gave him.

"Saved the best for last, Hun," Jess says with a smile. Sam kisses her and pulls the wrap off the box. He opens the lid and stares at the contents in bewilderment, then stares at Jess, his eyes wide.

"Is this? Are you?" he stutters.

"Yes," she says, a sweet smile on her face. Sam whoops, and jumps out of his chair, grabs her around the waist, and spins her around, kissing her hard.

"Holy crap," Adam yells, "what the hell was in that box?"

Sam's still grinning, as he sets Jess down and reaches for the box, pulling out the shirt inside, and showing it to everyone. It reads _"#1 Dad"_.

"I'M GOING TO BE A DADDY!"

* * *

The party explodes after Sam and Jess's announcement, and Dean's the first to hug them both, then he quietly disappears.

The only one who notices is Castiel, and he wanders off to find him. He finds Dean on the front porch, sitting on the top step, looking a little lost.

"You ok?" he asks, sitting down beside him, and Dean looks over at him, and there's a glimmer of sadness in his eyes. "Hey, what's wrong?"

"Nothing. Sam's so happy. He's got everything he always wanted, you know? Good job, gorgeous wife, the apple pie life, the picket fence. He's got it all. And a baby on the way. Damn, I'm so happy for him. It's everything he ever wanted."

"It's what you want too, isn't it?" Castiel asks quietly.

Dean sighs, dropping his head into his hands. "Not totally, I mean, I could be pretty damn happy with you. Hell, I am happy with you."

Castiel wraps his arm around Dean's shoulders and pulls him in. "Then what is it? The having kids part? Because there are options for gay couples, Dean. It's not out of the realm of possibility."

"I know that. I'm being silly."

Castiel cups Dean's chin in his hand, and turns his face up to look at him. "It's not silly. It's not. And it's ok to be thrilled for your brother, and still ache a little for yourself."

"It's just, I missed a lot of Ben's baby and toddlerhood. Lisa and I had a big fight after we decided not to get married, and I…I wasn't around a lot. I wasn't in Lawrence, and by the time I got back here, she'd met Vic, and I'd grown up, but so had Ben. He was already seven, and I'd missed so much. First teeth, first steps, I missed all of that. And he loves me, and I love him, but I'd give so much to have been there for everything…" he trails off, looking out into the yard. "Wow, I really know how to bring down the room."

Castiel pulls him close and kisses him. "It's ok, we're all entitled to a little melancholy now and then."

Dean smiles and hides his face in Castiel's shirt, roping a long arm around his waist. They sit like this for a while, Castiel enjoying the feel of Dean in his arms.

The noise of the party goes on behind them, and they sit curled up on the porch, peaceful and content, enjoying each other's warmth.

Adam comes out on the porch, beer in hand.

"Dude! Time for you to come in, Dean, we're firing up the karaoke machine!" He's back in the house a second later.

"Karaoke?"

Dean sits up and grins at him. "Ain't a Winchester party without beer and blackmail material." He stands and reaches a hand down, pulling Castiel to his feet. "C'mon, Mr. Celebrity Chef, let's get this party started!"


	14. Night Moves

Dean is wasted. Completely, totally, unapologetically wasted.

He's standing on top of his coffee table, microphone in hand, belting out Bon Jovi's _Wanted_ _Dead or Alive_ at his insanely loud, off-key best. He's so drunk, he's sweating like a whore in church, he's barefoot, and he's stripped off everything except his torn, sinfully tight black jeans, and they've slipped down and are riding the very edges of his hips. He's leaning backwards, head tossed back, finding his inner Robert Plant, really into his song, singing his heart out like his life depends on it.

Castiel can't take his eyes off of him.

Dean's so smoking hot like this, Castiel wants to yank him right off that table and drag him upstairs. He watches as a bead of sweat rolls down Dean's bare chest, and he'd like nothing more than to lick it off.

Sam is just as wasted, and they're singing, or rather screaming, the chorus at each other. Climbing up on the table next to Dean, Sam's also really getting into it, his arm tossed around Dean's shoulders, but the alcohol gets the best of him and he loses his balance and almost tumbles off the table.

"Get the fuck off my stage, Sasquatch, you're gonna dent my ceiling!" Dean yells, giving Sam a hearty shove. Sam giggles, and gets down, grabs a beer and heads outside. Jess shakes her head, and hands Castiel another container to put in the fridge.

"Those two," she sighs, "should not be allowed to consume alcohol…ever!"

Castiel smiles, and looks around the kitchen. He and Jess cleaned up most of the mess, and she's putting the last few dishes in the dishwasher. He grabs himself another beer, and heads out to the deck to cool off, laughing as he passes the living room. Dean's pulled both Jo and Benny up on his stage, and they're loudly singing _Thunderstruck_ at the top of their lungs, Adam cheering from the floor where he landed after his last song.

All the "grown-ups" have left, Bobby, Ellen, and Rufus leaving together, and Andrea took the girls home, telling Benny to stay and have fun. Lisa, Ben and Vic left not too long after Andrea. Ash and Garth are on the couch, loudly discussing Star Trek with Charlie and her girlfriend Gilda, who were late to the party, but are catching up quickly.

He smiles at Charlie, who smiles back, all while bombastically making a solid point about the merits of one Kathryn Janeway.

Everyone except Jess is drunk, even Castiel's past his usual limit.

He finds Sam sitting on a chair out in the yard, sprawled out under the hundreds of fairy lights Jo and Adam strung up in the trees. Smiling at Castiel, he indicates the chair next to him, and Castiel flops into it, taking a long sip of his beer.

"So is this when you give me the "don't hurt him or I'll kill you" speech?"

Sam bursts out with a loud chuckle, and leans back in his chair, draining his beer. "How many times did you hear that today?"

"Several. Bobby first, then Ellen, Rufus, I think Ash, but I'm not sure, Ben, and Lisa. So I figured you were next."

"Nah, man, I think you got the idea."

"I have to tell you though, the only one that really scared me was Benny."

Sam laughs again. "Yeah. Well, Benny's like that. He and Dean served together, I think there may have been some lifesaving in there at some point." Castiel stares at Sam.

"Served together?"

"Yeah, in the Army. Dean signed up after 9-11, convinced he had to save the world. Him and Benny went through a couple deployments together, Fallujah, Kandahar, I don't know. They refer to the whole Sandbox as "Purgatory" and they do not talk about it."

Castiel's a little taken aback. Ok, a lot taken aback. All those long phone calls, all the time they've spent together, and Dean's never mentioned the Army before. He doesn't know what to think about this, save for the fact that it really has been only two weeks.

"Cas? You ok?"

"Yeah, just, Dean's never mentioned that before."

Sam snorts. "Yeah, and I wouldn't read too much into it. He really, really doesn't like talking about it. Ever. I have no idea what he went through over there, but he was not himself after the last one. It took him a while to move past it. All I know is him and Benny went through something over there, and it was enough that Benny packed up Andrea and moved up here to work at the shop with Dean. Bobby retired, and Dean took over, like he should have all along."

"Is that why he missed so much of Ben's childhood?"

"Oh yeah. Boy, when Lisa found out he enlisted. Whew, it got pretty ugly. Ben was only about two, and Dean had been pretty involved in his life, but not totally there, not like he should have been, he was working all the time, and Lisa felt like enlisting was the same as running out on Ben. Dean just felt like he had to sign up to make the world safer for his kid. It's what broke them up too. But they worked it out ok." Sam leans forward, looks Castiel in the eyes. "Cas, seriously, he's not trying to hide it from you, he just doesn't want to talk about it, ok? Please don't be pissed with him."

"I'm not. Really."

"Good." Sam leans back, tilts his head back, looks up at the stars. "He's really happy you know? I haven't seen him this happy in years, if ever." He looks back at Castiel. "And that's all you."

Castiel smiles.

"So, I'm not going to give you the speech. I'm just going to ask you, please, don't hurt him. I mean it. If you think this is something you're not looking at as a long term thing, then walk away now, because Dean can't, he can't…" Sam trails off, looks down at the ground, "I just don't think he can go through something like that again. I mean, he's a tough guy and all, but he wears his heart on his sleeve, and I just…I don't want to see him hurt again."

"Sam, when I look at Dean," Castiel sighs, and looks back in the house, where Dean is still dancing on the coffee table, huge grin on his face, and Castiel smiles too. "When I look at Dean, Sam, I see forever."

Sam grins. "That's good, Cas. That's really good." The music in the house switches to Bob Seger's _Night Moves_, and Sam grins even wider. "Oh buddy. My brother is heading out here and he's got fire in his eyes." Dean struts across the lawn, and plops down in Castiel's lap, straddling his hips, looping his arms lazily around Castiel's shoulders, beads of sweat still rolling down his bare chest. He tilts his head back to look at Sam, almost hanging upside down in Castiel's lap.

"Hi, Sam."

"Hi, Dean."

"I'm drunk, Sam."

"Me too, Dean."

"I wanna make out with my boyfriend. Go away, Sam."

Sam laughs, and pulls himself out of the chair, swaying a bit, and ruffles Dean's hair as he walks past. "Thanks for the awesome party, bro."

Dean completely ignores him, zeroing in on Castiel's lips, kissing him long and deep, tangling their tongues together. He starts singing the song in his low, not so off-key tone that he gets when he's being a little more serious, although he seems to be making up some of the words as he goes.

"_Out in my backyard, let's get heavy _

_Out in the back seat of my '67 Chevy _

_Workin' on mysteries without any clues _

_Workin' on our night moves"_

He grins at Castiel.

"Is that an invitation, Winchester?" he smirks, tilting his head over towards the drive, where the Impala sits gleaming in the moonlight.

"Fuck, yes."

* * *

Dean wakes up, naked, sweaty, sticky, and completely disoriented.

His face is stuck to something, which upon closer inspection, turns out to be his baby's back seat. Cas is tossed over him, just as sticky, but awake, and grinning at him.

"What the hell are you grinning at?"

"You. What you say we find our pants and move this back up to your room?"

"The idea has merit." They squirm around in the back seat, hunting down their clothes. Dean suddenly remembers that all he has to find is his jeans, which is all Cas bothers to find, and they sneak back into Dean's house, bare-chested and holding hands.

It's 3:30 am, and Dean's living room looks like a war zone, bodies everywhere.

Benny and Jo are gone, no big surprise really, since Jo lives in the house next to his, and Benny is directly across the street.

Adam's passed out on the living room floor, Garth's head on his stomach. Charlie and Gilda are intertwined on the couch, Ash has zonked out on the kitchen table. Sam and Jess are nowhere to be found, and Dean figures Jess loaded Sam into the car and drove home, or dragged him downstairs to the pull-out couch.

Cas and Dean walk through the house quietly, shutting off lights and locking doors, then head up the stairs, which is when Dean realizes he's still extremely drunk, as he trips and falls up the last two, landing with a crash in front of his bedroom door, and he lays there and giggles for ten minutes before Cas stops laughing and helps him to his feet.

He strips his jeans off just inside the door, and Cas pushes him into the shower, scrubbing him clean from head to toe, and then there are blow jobs.

Or at least he thinks he remembers blow jobs, when he wakes to sun streaming in his windows the next morning, his head screaming with a hangover. Cas is there, already awake and looking perfectly fine, a big glass of ice water and several Tylenol in his hand.

"Ugh, turn off the sun!" Dean groans, after taking the pills with a big gulp of water, and he yanks the sheets up over his head. "Not getting up," he grumps, voice muffled by the comforter.

"Oh, come on, is it really that bad?"

"Yes."

Cas laughs, the bastard.

"How are you not hurting too? You're like, not human, dude."

"I'm plenty human, I just barfed it all up after you went to sleep, or should I say, passed out."

Dean flips the sheet back. "You ok?"

"I'm fine. I was hoping you were going to get up sometime this year though, I need a shower, and they're more fun with you."

"Didn't we take one last night? I swear I remember that. And blow jobs? There were blow jobs, right? Please tell me I didn't imagine that."

Cas chuckles. "No, you didn't imagine that. But I barely got you dried off and in bed before you passed out, and I need another one, believe me."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Cas smiles, running his hand through Dean's hair and then cupping his cheek. "You have no idea how adorable you were last night. Singing and dancing and acting crazy, then dragging me out to the Impala to have your way with me. It was a great night, and Sam loved every minute of it. I got to meet your whole family, and everyone was so welcoming. It was a wonderful night."

Dean smiles, his whole face lighting up with it, his green eyes sparkling, and he reaches out and wraps his arms around Cas, pulling him flush against his chest. He tangles his fingers around Cas's, pulls their joined hands to his mouth and kisses them. Cas makes a little contented sound, snuggling in close, and they lay like that for a while, Dean gradually feeling better as the Tylenol kicks in.

There's voices from downstairs, he's pretty sure he can hear Sam, but his door is shut, and no one's going to come up and bother them, and he's really starting to appreciate morning sex, and he tells Cas this, and they both laugh, and a few minutes later, the rest of the world's completely forgotten.

* * *

By ten, Castiel and Dean are making breakfast for eight people, including themselves, in various hung-over states and one glowing pregnant lady.

Eight becomes nine when Jo waltzes back in, apparently fine, one of those annoying people who never seems to feel a hangover. She loftily tells Castiel that it's because she grew up in The Roadhouse, her mom's bar, and had beer in a bottle as a baby, which instantly has Ash muttering some unintelligible crap about blood, Bud, and beer nuts.

Dean starts loading the table with platters stacked high with pancakes, bacon, sausage, eggs, and a huge bowl of fresh fruit. Castiel thinks it's probably a good thing he owns such a large table, as the rowdy group crowds around it. Poor Jess gets a whiff of the food, and dashes off to the bathroom, leaving Sam to exclaim in wonderment, "That's why she's been barfing all the time!"

Everyone laughs, and throws food at him, until he gives them all this "hurt puppy" look, eyes big and wounded, but he can't hold it, and bursts out laughing, which only nets him a pancake to the head.

Castiel watches Dean, pleased to see the huge grin on his face. He's having the time of his life, all these people here in his home, and Castiel thinks they should all consider themselves lucky to be so loved by this man, with his big heart and generous spirit. Even Charlie, who Dean's only known as long as he's known Castiel, is clearly considered family already, Dean having adopted her as another little sister, Gilda welcomed just as warmly.

Castiel thinks it's just another reason Dean is so remarkable.

The party finally starts breaking up after the kitchen is tidied, Charlie and Gilda the first to head out, Ash and Garth not long after. Jess, Adam, and Sam all grab showers, then help Dean and Castiel clean up the yard and stack the tables for the rental company to pick up. Castiel moves his rental car into the driveway while Dean discusses some paperwork with Sam, handing him a large stack of papers to look over, then Castiel and Dean stand on the porch and wave as Adam drives off in his truck and Sam and Jess in the M5.

Castiel wraps his arms around Dean, and kisses his neck.

"Alone at last," he whispers, pulling Dean back into the house, closing the door behind them.

They end up making out on the couch for a while, then Dean's stomach growls.

"I think we need to feed you," Castiel says with a smile. In the kitchen, they pick through the leftovers, each claiming a burger and a corn on the cob and some of the salads. They're perched on the counters, talking about the party, when Castiel remembers Napa.

"So there's this thing coming up at the end of May, it's a food and wine thing in Napa. Bobby Flay will be there, and a bunch of other guys, and I always stay in this really gorgeous house with the Flays, the Symons, Giada and her husband, and Ted and Barry. I'm always the only single. Can I not be the only single this year? Come with me, please?"

Dean grins. "Dude, of course I'll come with you."

"Yes! It's four days, starts on Thursday and goes over Memorial Day weekend. We'll have to get you a tux, one night is a black tie thing."

"Ok, I can go rent one or something."

"Nah, we'll go up to KC and buy you one."

Dean's face blanches. "Cas, look, I'm not hurting for money or anything, but I sure as hell can't afford to buy a tux."

"I'll buy it for you."

"Dude…"

"Seriously, Dean, I've been banking every last penny I've made since I opened the restaurant. I have cookbooks now, and a line of crap with my name on it being sold in stores. I have money, and I never spend it because I don't have anything, or _anyone_, to spend it on. Let me spend it on you. It's not charity, it's me wanting to do things for you because I can. Ok?"

Dean nods.

"So today, you should pack a bag and plan on staying in a nice hotel up there with me, and we'll go shopping and eat at that Arthur Bryant's place, and just have a great time."

"I have to work tomorrow, Cas. Tomorrow's Monday."

Castiel grins. "I already talked to Benny and Jo. You're in the clear. Get packing."

Dean smiles to spite himself, and a little while later, they're out the door, and off to KC.

* * *

They spend the whole day shopping, and by the time they finally check into a hotel, Dean's exhausted and all he wants to do is sleep.

He's got a new tux, a black one with a black vest, and two different bowties, one white and one black, and it fits him like it was made for him. Then Cas saw this suit, and insisted on getting that for him too, and shirts, and ties, and two new pairs of shoes, then he drug him to several other stores and bought him a new watch, and socks, and underwear, and dressier casual clothes, and just so much stuff.

Cas wouldn't take no for an answer, and wouldn't let Dean see any of the receipts. They had an early dinner at Arthur Bryant's, Cas declaring that he'd found the rib place to end all rib places, and of course, all the foodies in the restaurant recognized him, and they got to tour the kitchen, then they went to a movie.

Dean's so damn glad to be back at the hotel, because he was having trouble staying awake in the theater. He'd really love to have sex, but he's pretty sure that, between all the shopping and the party, and all the alcohol, he's not going to be able to stay awake long enough to do a damn thing.

Cas doesn't seem to mind, and they strip down to boxers and curl up in bed together, wrapped around each other, and Dean falls asleep, warm and comfortable.

They make up for the lack of sex the next morning, first in bed, then in the shower, because Cas really seems to enjoy fucking in the shower, and who the hell is Dean to tell him no?

Then they order breakfast, eggs benedict for Cas, and a mushroom and swiss omelet for Dean, coffee and fresh fruit, and eat snuggled up in bed, watching CNN, the anchor talking about some soldiers getting killed in Afghanistan, and Dean really doesn't want to watch that, so he changes the channel to cartoons, laughing at the antics of Scooby and crew, hoping that Cas didn't notice, because not only does he not want to see it, he damn well doesn't want to talk about it.

Checkout's at eleven, and they're dressed and on the way back to Dean's by noon. Cas is staying 'til Tuesday morning, and they've already agreed that Cas will come back up alone, and drop off the rental, because Dean can't miss another day of work, especially if he's going to take a chunk at the end of the month to go to Napa.

Castiel's quiet on the way home, Dean's not sure what that's about, unless he's just feeling bummed about going back to NYC.

Dean hopes he hasn't screwed up somewhere. Maybe he's really not ok with spending all that money on him, and he's thinking about how much all that shit cost, and that Dean's a bum who can't pay his own way. Dean's working himself into a panic attack, when Cas suddenly undoes his seatbelt, and slides across the bench in the Impala, snapping on the rarely used middle belt. He leans his head on Dean's shoulder, and that's where he stays for the rest of the drive back to Lawrence.

_Yeah_, Dean thinks, _I could definitely get used to this_.


	15. Realizations

The rain pounds on the roof, the storm having appeared from nowhere, bright flashes of light and concussive blasts of thunder, and Dean and Cas had run from the Impala to Dean's front door.

Now they're laying on Dean's bed, Cas straddling Dean's hips as he rides him, slow and easy, their hands intertwined, Dean's head tossed back against the pillows, his breaths rough and ragged, little moans and whimpers tumbling unbidden from his mouth.

Cas leans forward and kisses him, pushes Dean's hands up over his head, holding him down, and god, Dean is loving every minute of it.

It's not like he needs to feel taken care of, but Cas does that for him anyway. He takes his control away, and leaves Dean feeling like he's still in charge of the situation. He holds him down, but at the same time, builds him up, makes Dean feel like everything is perfect, that his whole world is as it should be. He takes the fear away. He takes the pain away. He's the best thing that's ever happened to Dean, and sure, maybe it's only been two weeks and three days, but there's no point in fighting it anymore, not when he's this sure, not when he knows beyond a shadow of a doubt.

He's gone. It's done. Dean Winchester is in love.

Cas is the first to doze off after, wrapped in Dean's arms, his head resting on his shoulder. The rain is still falling, occasional flashes of lightning illuminating the darkness of the bedroom. Dean's wide awake, unusual for him, especially after mind-blowing sex like that, and he's staring at the dark wooden blades of the ceiling fan as it spins lazily, the lightning occasionally causing a strobe effect.

His mind is racing, overwhelmed by the realization that he's in love.

It's terrifying. He doesn't trust himself to be what Cas needs. He couldn't keep Bela happy. He couldn't keep Cassie happy. He struck out with Lisa, and the attempt with Jo was half-hearted at best.

Dean's well aware of the fact that he's a big fat failure in the relationship department.

He gave everything he had to keep Bela happy, and it was never enough. He knows he shouldn't blame himself, but there's always this voice in the back of his head offering suggestions of what he could have done, should have done, ways he could have kept Bela content and happy and by his side.

Dean wonders how long it will take this time. How long it will take before he makes a fatal error, and Cas realizes what a hot mess he is and runs for the hills. Dean's been lucky so far, Cas hasn't experienced one of Dean's horrendous post-Afghanistan nightmares yet. These days, they're rare, but they still happen.

And that's another thing. Dean hasn't told Cas anything about his military service, or the shit that went down over there. He doesn't even begin to know how to start talking about that. And when Cas finds out, shit, Dean doesn't even want to think about that.

His dad had an idea what happened over there, having served in 'Nam with the Corps, but Sam and Adam have no idea. No one in his family knows just how bad things got, how close he came to losing not just his life, but himself. How close he came to losing his soul.

There's only one person in his life who knows exactly what happened in the place they call Purgatory. Only one person who saw what a monster Dean could become when the orders demanded it.

Benny's his friend, and one of the few people who really know Dean. He's stood by him through the absolute worst period of his life, he's literally saved his life more than once, and then he packed up his wife and left Louisiana to move to Lawrence, all just to be there for Dean. Because he cares, and he's more than Dean's friend, he's a brother in every sense of the term.

Benny understands him. Benny knows him. The real him. The one that he's afraid to show to Cas.

Dean sighs in frustration, annoyed by his own disoriented train of thought. He climbs out of bed, after carefully moving Cas off of him, and walks over to stand at the window. The storm is still raging, the heavy rains flooding his yard. A flash of lightning and the following boom of thunder makes him jump slightly. He's still naked, and he shivers a little in the cool room.

Not for the first time, he wonders why he lets his thoughts run away like that.

Arms wrap around his waist, warm arms, and there's hot breath in his ear.

"It's late, babe, come back to bed," Cas whispers, and Dean allows himself to be pulled back into the warmth of his bed, back into Cas's arms as the other man pulls the blankets over them, and Dean buries his face in Cas's shoulder, reveling in the feel of the man's strong arms holding him close. Cas kisses his forehead, and Dean feels his entire body relax, sleep finally finding him.

* * *

Something's going on with Dean, but damned if Castiel can figure it out.

They've showered together, eaten breakfast, and now Dean's getting ready for work, pulling on his black shop pants and a black tee, then sitting on the couch to lace his work boots. He's barely said two words to Castiel this morning, but he doesn't think Dean's mad at him. He thinks he's upset, and he has no idea what he's upset about.

Only one way to find out.

"Dean? Are you ok?"

"Sure," he replies quickly, not meeting Castiel's eyes. He stands up from the couch, and grabs a black denim jacket with _Winchester and Sons Auto Restoration Ltd._ embroidered on the back in bright red, and his name on the front. "Got your stuff together? You can follow me to the shop and I can show you around the place."

Something is definitely off. He won't meet Castiel's eyes, and his voice is friendly, but slightly clipped, and not his usual warm tone. Dean moves quickly from the living room to his small office in the very front of the house, opposite the kitchen, the sound of rustling papers coming through the doorway.

Castiel's at a total loss. He can't figure out where they went wrong. Unless he's just upset that their weekend is over.

"Cas, c'mon, grab your bag, I gotta leave," Dean calls from the front door, laptop bag in hand. Whatever it is that's bothering him, Castiel's not leaving this house until he figures it out, and he really doesn't care if Dean's late for work.

He strides down the hall, where Dean's holding the door open. He shoves Dean out of the way, ignoring the other man's protests, and slams the door shut, then pushes Dean up against it, pinning him to the door with an arm on either side of Dean's chest.

"What the hell, Cas?! I told you I need to get to work!" he growls.

"And I need to know what's going on in that pretty head of yours. Things were fine last night, now this morning you're acting like we're just friends or something. What's wrong? Tell me, dammit!"

Dean squirms in his hold, eyes downcast. Castiel cups Dean's jaw, and tilts his head up. "Dean," he says gently, "You're scaring me. What's wrong?"

"It's fine, I'm just bummed that you're leaving today, and I really do need to get to work, ok?"

"You'd tell me if something else was going on, wouldn't you?"

Dean finally meets his eyes, and he can see the tiredness in them, along with something else he can't name.

"Didn't you sleep well last night?"

"No, not really." Dean sighs. "I'm ok Cas, I'm just trying to get in my work mindset, and I really wish you weren't leaving. I hate that we live so damn far apart. I want to be with you all the time, and I can't. It's making me nuts."

"Me too," Castiel murmurs. "And I won't be able to come next weekend. I've got an event. I could fly you up?"

"I have a car show in Kansas City. Guess we won't see each other again until the Napa trip?" Dean replies ruefully.

"I'm coming out the Wednesday before. We'll fly to Cali together. Will that make it a little easier for you?"

"Yes it will."

"Good." Castiel kisses Dean, long and deep, reveling in the taste of his lips. He finally releases Dean, and opens the door again. "I'm ready."

"Me, too," Dean says with a sigh, pulling the door shut behind them.

* * *

He gives Cas a tour of the building, shows him the cars they're working on.

Then it's time for Cas to leave. They hug, and share a long and lingering kiss, and Dean watches as Cas drives away, desperately trying to swallow the lump in his throat, fighting back the sting of tears in his eyes.

Cas was right, something is wrong, and he's worried. There's things he's going to have to tell him if this relationship goes much further, especially if he's going to admit his midnight realization that he's in love with Cas, and Dean doesn't have a clue how to start that conversation.

Sighing, he heads back into the office, mountain of paperwork waiting for him, and two interviews on tap for the day. One is for a new mechanic, the other is for security specialist, some old fart that came highly recommended by Bobby. It blows him away that they're actually getting to the point that they even need to hire a security specialist.

He's tired though, and he'd like nothing more than to lay his head down on the desk and take a nap.

"Dean? Your first interview is here." Jo hands him a cup of black coffee which he takes from her gratefully.

"Ok. Send 'em in." He shuffles through the paperwork on his desk, pulling out the application for the new mechanic.

"Mr. Winchester?" he looks up, and there's a pretty, petite brunette in a navy pantsuit standing in his doorway. "I'm Madison, I'm here for the interview?"

Dean stares at her for a moment, confused, then looks down at the application in his hand. "M. Jones?"

"Yup, that's me." She smiles, and Dean can't help but smile back. She's cute.

"Have a seat," he says, waving at the chair in front of his desk, and she sits, crossing her legs like a lady. "Um, you applied for the mechanic position?"

She nods.

"And you're a master ASE?"

"I know, I'm a chick and it's hard to believe, yadda yadda yadda. But I grew up working on cars, I put myself through school, and I just need someone to take a chance on me. Please, don't turn me down just 'cause I'm a girl."

Dean catches Jo's eyes through the doorway, and there's a challenge there. Clearly, he's not going to be able to let Madison just walk out the door. He's got an idea.

"Come with me," he says, standing quickly, and she jumps out of the chair. He leads her out to the shop, her sensible heels clicking across the floor. He takes her out to a yellow '71 Challenger that Benny's currently working on.

"Ooh, nice. 1971 Dodge Challenger." She peaks in the engine compartment. "Hemi V8, 426 cubic inches, 6.98 liters. This engine cost an extra thirteen hundred bucks back in the day. Rare lady right here." She walks around the car in a slow appreciative circle. "Citron Yella, body's solid, no rust. Baby just needs a little paint refresher, don't ya girl?"

Dean grins. He likes this chick already. "Benny, fire her up, Madison come over here and give a listen."

Benny turns the key, and the Challenger roars to life. Madison sticks her head down in the engine compartment, holding her dark brown hair back with one hand, eyes closed, a thoughtful expression on her face. She reaches in, twists the carburetor linkage, and the Challenger responds with a mighty roar. Smiling, she gives Benny the "cut it" sign, running her hand under her throat.

"Well, I noticed several things. There's some serious air noise somewhere in the exhaust system, probably a loose baffle in one of the mufflers. Timing's off somewhere, this baby is missing where she shouldn't be. And there's some definite chatter on the valves, sounds like there's a flat spot on the cam shaft."

Dean and Benny exchange a look over the roof of the car.

"So, Madison," Dean begins, "when can you start?"

* * *

Castiel tosses his bag on the bed, sorting through a stack of mail.

He tosses most of it on his desk, pulling out the envelope with the Chicago return address on it. He opens it, finding a short note inside.

_Hi little bro,_

_Just sending you the girls' annual school pictures. Aren't they adorable? Rachel looks so much like Mama here._

_Gabe says you have a new boyfriend, and that he's really sweet. I'd love to hear more, but from you. Maybe pick up the phone and call your big sis sometime?_

_I love you,_

_Anna_

Castiel pulls out the pictures of his nieces, both adorable as ever in their private school jumpers. Anna's right, Rachel does look like their mother. Sarah looks like her father, dark hair and slight scowl. He makes a mental note to call Anna later, and tell her all about Dean, but right now he's got some travel plans to make.

He makes all the arrangements for the Napa trip, booking his flight to Kansas City on Wednesday, then booking flights for him and Dean to San Francisco from KC on Thursday. Castiel books a car next, then makes reservations at his favorite Napa restaurant, The French Laundry in Yountville.

That done, he leans back in his chair. He's thinking about San Francisco, and all the places he'd love to show Dean. Chinatown, Fisherman's Wharf, Alcatraz. He wonders if Dean would agree to take more time off. If he'd be willing to stay in California with him for a whole week.

If he asks Dean directly, he'll probably say no. Castiel grabs his phone, a sly smile on his face, and scrolls through the numbers until he finds the only other 785 number in his directory.

"_Jo Harvelle_," she answers.

"Hi Jo, it's Castiel. Got a minute?"

* * *

Friday morning, and Dean's supervising as Benny and Ash load three cars onto the shop's mini car carrier.

Benny's own pristine 1968 Chevrolet Camaro SS is first, electric blue paint gleaming in the sun. Next is the pure white 1971 Corvette they've just finished for Mr. Edwards, early, on the stipulation they could show it in KC. Then it's Bobby's 1957 Chevy Stepside Pickup, cherry red and beautiful. Dean's taking the Impala too, but he's driving his baby to Overland tonight, and staying with Jess and Sam. Benny's leaving in the next two hours, with Ash and Garth, so they can get to Kansas City early and set up the Winchester and Sons' booth.

Madison comes out of the garage, dark hair in a ponytail, navy blue coveralls unzipped, form-fitting white tank underneath. If Dean wasn't so gone on Cas, he'd be flirting with her like a maniac. She's beyond hot, and it sure doesn't hurt that she's as smart as a whip, and sure as hell knows her way around an engine. Hell, Dean only wishes she'd applied sooner. She's a perfect addition to his team, unlike his new security specialist, an old fart named Frank Devereaux, who doesn't appear to trust anyone. He's good at his job, but he's seriously creepy.

"Look at all that gorgeous Chevy sitting up there. Mmm, mmm, mmm. You know, the Challenger's pretty well done. We oughta take her up there too, just so we don't look like an exclusive Chevy shop or something. You've got room for one more on there."

"Yeah, boss, she's looking pretty good. Mads is right, we should take her too," Ash chimes in. Dean considers this for a moment.

"Yeah, you guys are right. Madison, can you go ask Jo to call the owner and see if we can take the Challenger with us?"

"Sure, no prob." She saunters off towards the office, and Dean's amused to catch Ash watching her every step.

"Down boy," Benny chides, playfully slapping Ash across the back of his head.

Dean leaves them cheerfully insulting each other, and heads into the office. Jo's on the phone, Madison stretched out in one of the showroom chairs.

"Mr. Brooks says take the Challenger. He'll be at the show this weekend, and he's looking forward to showing her off and bragging," Jo says, as she hangs up the phone.

"Awesome. Madison, go ahead and give her a solid once over, and have Garth slap a quick wax job on. Tell him I want it ready to go with in the hour, ok?"

"Sure thing, boss."

The phone is ringing again, as Dean heads back into his own office. He's got boxes of pamphlets and business cards to get out to the truck, along with the trophies they've won, photo albums of previous jobs, and some swag he had made up to give out, shirts, hats, and pens.

"Dean?" Jo pokes her head in his office, "Crowley's on the phone."

"Fuck."

"Yeah. Want me to take a message?"

"No, he'll just call my cell. Put it through."

She frowns, and disappears from the doorway. A second later, his phone beeps.

"Mr. Crowley?"

"_Hello, boy. Have you considered my offer?"_

"Um, my brother is still going over the contracts. I'm going to see him this weekend, and we'll discuss it then."

"_Don't keep me waiting. I am not a patient man." _

"Right. Hopefully, I'll have an answer for you Monday or Tuesday."

"_Make it Monday. Early Monday."_

"Um. Ok."

"_And Dean?"_

"Yes?"

"_Don't disappoint me."_ There's a click, as the other man disconnects, and an icy shiver runs down Dean's spine.

He hates to admit it, but Crowley scares him.

* * *

Friday night, and Blue Heaven is hopping.

Castiel's plating like a maniac, wiping sauce off the rims of plates, Gabe beside him, and they're both sweaty, but Castiel's in his element. It's been a while since he was in the kitchen for a busy shift like this, and he's reveling in it.

After, when things are quiet, and the restaurant is mostly empty, he and Gabe find a table, sharing a plate of calamari between them and a couple of drafts. Gabe updates him on restaurant business, and they go over the menu changes he's wanting to make, then they talk about the trip Gabe's planning in August. He's surprising Kali with a trip to India, and, he confides, he's shopping for rings and plans to finally propose in front of the Taj Mahal.

"Well, it's about time Gabe, you've only been together for eight years."

"I know, I just wanted it to be really special, and I needed time to plan."

"I understand. I'm happy for you." He smiles at his brother, who smiles back, happiness glittering in his golden eyes.

"So, how was Kansas this time?"

"Magical," Castiel answers, popping a piece of fried squid into his mouth. "Dean's family is wonderful, and so welcoming, I really felt at home. And he said yes to the Napa trip."

"That's good."

"I'm very excited. I think we're going to have a lot of fun, and I'm going to take him to San Francisco too. It's going to be a lovely week."

"You're gone, you know that right? I can see it in your eyes. My little brother is in love," Gabe says with a silly smile.

"I don't know about that. I do like spending time with him."

"So just admit it already. You're in love. It's obvious." Gabe's grinning at him, and Castiel can't help but grin back, his brother's enthusiasm catching.

"Yeah. Yeah, ok, I'm pretty gone on Dean. I'm quite possibly in love with him."

"There's no "possibly" here, Cassie. You're done. You're in love. Stop the presses, call the game, the whole nine yards. You're done bro."

Castiel smiles, thinks about Dean again, feeling the familiar little flutter in his heart that's there every time he thinks of Dean.

And he's always thinking about Dean, about the way he smells, how green his eyes are, the little sounds he makes when he's sleeping, the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles, the way he looks when they make love, the way he gives everything he has with his whole heart.

Gabe's right. There's no way around it, and it doesn't make sense to deny it anymore.

It's been exactly three weeks, but it doesn't matter anymore.

"You're right, Gabe. I love him. I'm in love with Dean Winchester."

And it's the best feeling in the world.


	16. Contracts and Caveats

"There is nothing in that contract that I like."

Dean leans back in a deck chair, watching his little brother flip burgers on the grill.

"He's going to get most of your profits. He wants that 30% whether or not you make budget for the month, which means, say you make $1000 one week. You've got to pay utilities out of that, and payroll, let's say that takes $650. Crowley wants his 30% to come off the $1000, not what's actual profit after you meet budget. So if you pay the $650 budget out of the $1000, that leaves you $350. Now, if he's asking 30% off the top, before your budgeted expenses, that's $300! That leaves you with a measly fifty bucks! Not acceptable. And then, if you can't make budget and give him his cut, that leaves him the opportunity to take the business from you."

"That's not good."

"No, it's not. And he wants way too much control of the administrative side of the business, wants a say in who you hire, wants unlimited access to personnel files, your books, everything. You can't sign that contract, that's for damn sure. Even if he was taking his 30% after budget, it's still too much, plus all the other little caveats in the contract…I don't like it. I wouldn't do business with this ass, Dean. You don't need his $750,000 that much." Sam chugs the rest of his beer, tossing the can into the recycle bin.

"So what do I do?"

"You tell him to take a hike. Or…" Sam trails off.

"Or what?"

"Personally, I don't think you should deal with this asshat at all, but if you're still interested, I could have my people work up a new set of contracts, reducing his take to 20% after budget, and pulling out all the "take control of the business" bullshit he put in. Hit him with a counter offer. Winchester and Sons is hot. If he wants to work with you that bad, he'll take the deal."

"I trust you, Sam. Have your people work something out, and we'll take it from there."

"Good. Ok, I'll get my staff on this right away."

"I want to pay you for this."

Sam laughs. "No, Dean, I got it covered. Just let me handle this. Also, if we go forward with this, I want to be there when you meet with him again. You're going to need backup."

"He's a slimy bastard, but he's brought so much business in for me."

"That doesn't mean you have to let him run over you like this." Sam sighs, and scratches his belly under his KU tee. "So how's Cas?"

"Fine, I guess. Haven't talked to him since yesterday. I know he was taking a shift at the restaurant tonight, so I doubt I'll hear from him today." He stares into his beer, missing Cas more than he can say.

"Look at you, all moony over your boyfriend."

Dean's cheeks heat.

"What? It's awesome. You're all happy and smiley these days. It's an improvement, believe me."

"Oh, leave him alone, Hun, jeez," Jess says, as she comes out onto the deck. She's in pink scrubs with tiny grey cats all over them, hospital badge on a lanyard around her neck, blonde curls tumbling over her shoulder as she leans over to kiss Dean on the cheek.

"Well, look at him! Have you ever seen him smile this much? I haven't!"

"God, shut up Sam," Dean groans, but smiles even as he says it.

"See?!" Sam crows in triumph.

"Yeah, ok, I'm happy. What's your point?"

"My point is you're happy and I like it. You're totally in love, man."

Dean's cheeks heat again. He's barely admitted that to himself, let alone anyone in his family. "It's only been three weeks, Sam, three weeks exactly."

"Like that matters," adds Jess, "If you're fighting it, you might as well give up at this point. You're gone on him. Completely."

"I thought you were on my side!"

"I am. But I'm not blind, Dean." She kisses Sam. "I'm off to work boys. See you later. Don't get too drunk!"

Dean sighs as she leaves. "Why does she always assume we'll get drunk?"

"Because we usually do?"

"Hmm. Yeah, there's that." He smiles and holds his can out and Sam clinks his can against Dean's. "Bottoms up, bro!"

A few hours and better than half a case of beer later, they're both a little on the drunk side of life, sitting side by side on the steps of Sam's deck, shoulders pressed together.

"The thing about Cas," Dean slurs without preamble, "is he doesn't expect me to be anything but me, so when I'm with him, I'm just me, and not like, I dunno, someone else."

Sam looks at him and giggles. "That's fucking profound, man."

"Shuddup. I know what I meant."

"Good. 'Cause I don't know what you meant."

"No, man, 'cause fucking Bela, she wanted me to be someone else. And I wasn't able to, be, you know, someone else. I'm just me."

"I know. Bela was a fucklump."

"Fucklump? Fucklump, Sammy? What the hell is that?"

"I dunno, sounded better in my head." Sam chugs the rest of his beer and tosses it aimlessly into the yard. "But now, you're all in love with Cas, and he's like, I don't know, he's like an angel, and he's pulled your ass out of hell, and dude, I'm fucking grateful for that."

"An angel? That's what you're going for?"

"It's an angelic name. I looked it up. Castiel's the angel of Thursday…but you met him on a Friday." Sam hiccups, then lays down, his back on the deck and his ridiculously long legs dangling down the stairs. Dean finishes his beer and tosses it out into the yard as well. He looks at Sam laying on the deck and grins.

"You're going to fall asleep like that and I'm going to laugh my ass off when Jess finds you out here in the morning."

Sam grabs Dean's arm and pulls him down next to him. "You won't be laughing if she finds you out here too, moron." He starts giggling hysterically, and Dean rolls his eyes.

"You always were a happy drunk."

This makes Sam laugh even harder. "I know!" he says in between giggle fits. "It's spectacu-lac-ular!"

"Oh, brother."

"Dean," Sam says, suddenly serious as he rolls to face his brother, "Seriously. I'm happy for you, really happy for you. You need to be happy for yourself, man. Don't screw this up because you're scared or something. You deserve to be happy too, Dean. Cas is the best thing that's ever happened to you. Don't screw it up."

"I won't Sam, I promise."

"Good. 'Cause I want you to be happy. 'Cause you're my brother, and I love you," he slurs sloppily.

Dean smiles at him, amused at how much Sam looks like a drunk puppy. "Ok, Sam. I love you, too."

They lay there a while, watching the stars, then Sam reaches over and tweaks his nose, hollers "Boop!" and passes out.

* * *

Castiel does his event Saturday, a book signing at Chelsea Market, then spends the rest of the weekend carefully choosing his clothes for Napa.

Sunday, he calls Anna, and they talk for over an hour, catching up on everything, and she's thrilled to hear more about Dean. They make plans to get together for 4th of July, Anna planning to bring Michael and the girls to NYC. Castiel intends to invite Dean as well. They have a lovely chat, and Castiel's smiling when he hangs up.

Monday is spent with Gabe and Kali at a Yankees game, Kali asking him all about Dean, and Castiel happily answering, more than happy to talk about him. They have dinner at Kali's restaurant, Annapurna, then go out for drinks afterward.

It's after midnight when he stumbles back into his loft, and he feels terrible when he finds two missed calls from Dean. It's way too late to call him now, but Dean sounds so disappointed, maybe he'd forgive him for calling so late.

The phone rings three times, and he's just about to hang up when Dean's sleep-weary voice rasps a hello through the line.

"Hello Dean. Sorry to wake you, I just got your messages."

"_It's ok Cas. It's good to hear your voice."_

"How are you?"

"_I'm fine. Can't wait to see you Wednesday."_

"Same here. I'm almost packed already. Did your suits come from the tailor's yet?"

"_Yeah. I've already put them in the garment bag."_

"Good, and bring lots of casual clothes, all the ones we just got you, and some jeans and tees."

"_Jeez, Cas we're only going for four days."_

Castiel smiles, he can't wait to surprise Dean with the extra few days in San Francisco. "Just do it. So what's going on with you tomorrow?"

A heavy sigh from Dean's end. _"This client, Crowley, wants to be a silent partner in my business. He gave me this contract that was full of crap and Sam's people re-wrote it with a counter offer. So anyway, Sam's coming to play lawyer tomorrow when we meet with him. Dude gives me the creeps, Cas. I don't trust him."_

"Trust your instincts then."

"_Well the new contract takes out almost everything he wanted and takes his cut from 30% to 20% and Sam's hoping that will be enough for him to beat it. And the thing is, after the car show this weekend, I'm going to have plenty of business. Truth is, I really don't need this guy or his money."_ Dean sighs again. _"I can't wait for Napa, Cas. I'm looking forward to a few days of not worrying about this crap."_

"Well, no worries. We're going to have a lot of fun, you're going to meet a lot of my Food Network buddies, and we're going to eat some amazing food. And I'll be in KC Wednesday afternoon."

"_I seriously can't wait. Which reminds me, do you need a ride from the airport?"_

"I took care of it. I'll meet you at the shop around three and we can go out to dinner. How's that sound?"

"_Wonderful,"_ Dean says with feeling. _"I can't wait man."_ He yawns then, even though Castiel can tell he tried to fight it.

"Go back to sleep, Dean. We'll talk tomorrow. I lo…miss you. I miss you." He almost said it. Damn, he almost said it.

"_I miss you too, Cas,"_ Dean says sleepily. _"Goodnight."_

"Goodnight, Dean."

Castiel climbs the stairs and strips down, curling up in his own bed.

So close, he'd almost said it. But he doesn't want to say that over the phone.

When Castiel Novak tells Dean Winchester he loves him, he wants to say it to his face.

* * *

Dean's nervously pacing his office Tuesday morning, waiting for Crowley to show up.

Sam's sitting behind Dean's desk, going through the new contract, reading and rereading to make sure everything is perfect.

"Dean. Calm down, dude, we've got this. He's going to walk, everything's going to be fine."

"I know, Sam, just this guy, I don't know, he's slimy, and…"

"He's here!" Jo yells through the doorway.

"Fuck."

"Calm down. I've got this. But come over here and sit in your chair. You own this place. Don't let him forget it." Sam stands and straightens his suit jacket and Dean takes his place in the desk chair.

Crowley rustles into the office, Ruby and Meg close behind, and Dean wants to laugh. They're all in black, practically matching, and he's reminded of the girls from the Robert Palmer videos, with their tight black dresses, slicked back hair, and screaming red lips.

"Hello boys," Crowley purrs, dropping into the first available chair. "I see you've brought your moose. This should be interesting."

Sam pulls a bitch-face.

"I told you not to call him that."

"Again, my apologies. So, why are we here boys? Have you signed my contract?"

"No, he hasn't, and he isn't going to. Did you honestly think all that language about being able to take control of the business was going to escape my notice? I told Dean he shouldn't deal with you at all. But he's nicer than I am, so he had me draw up a new contract."

"I'm listening," Crowley growls irritably.

"The new contract leaves Dean in full control of the business, no matter what. There is no caveat that would leave you in control of Winchester and Sons at any time. You do not have administrative control of anything, be it hiring, personnel files, or tax records. The new contract also reduces your cut of the profits to 20% after Dean makes budget, not before. You wanted to be a silent partner, well, this keeps you silent." Sam hands a now scowling Crowley a copy of the new contract. "Feel free to look this over and get back to us," he says with a fake smile.

Dean watches as Crowley reads the contract, his face going from annoyed to angry as he flips through the pages.

"This is so far removed from my original offer it's laughable. You're not serious, are you?"

"Yes. I am serious. If you're that interested in doing business with me, then you should have no difficulty accepting that contract. I had a great weekend, Crowley. Drummed up lots of new business at that car show. I have a waiting list of four months. I'm about to expand. I don't need you. I don't need your business or your money."

"Fine!" He stands, and tosses the contract at Dean. "You're a fool, and you're going to regret this. You should have signed my contract!" He storms out of Dean's office, the girls following closely, the one named Meg smirking at them as she leaves, and Dean feels his stomach bottom out.

"Jesus. Talk about dodging the bullet. That is definitely not the kind of people you need to be doing business with Dean. That man's nothing but trouble."

"Do you think he meant it?" Dean's stomach is tossing.

"Meant what?"

"The thing about me regretting it. Do you think he'll do something?"

"He'd be nuts to try. He's just pissed off, I don't think he'll try anything stupid." Sam sits in the chair Crowley just vacated. "You can take out a loan, collateral on this building, which you own free and clear, and the Salvage yard out back, and expand without that jackass's help. Anyway, I was thinking, if you're planning to expand into the other building, you're probably going to need to update your insurance on both buildings, increase your coverage. You want me to look into that for you?"

"Couldn't hurt." Dean doodles aimlessly on a pad of paper for a moment. "That guy freaks me out. Has since I met him. I'm actually relieved to be done with him."

"Can't blame you there. I think you'll be fine, even without his money. And it's done. So now you can concentrate on getting ready for Napa." Sam grins at him.

"Yeah, yeah. Believe me, I am more than ready for that."

"You're going to have a great time."

"I hope so," Dean says quietly. "I hope so."

* * *

Castiel's flight is uneventful, and he has no trouble finding the car he hired to pick him up.

He's at Dean's shop by three, and finds the man head and shoulders in a primer gray '68 'Cuda. Castiel takes a moment to enjoy the view, Dean's perfect ass stretching against the black shop pants he has on, as he reaches deep inside the car's engine compartment. Jo comes out of the building, a big smile on her face, and she reaches for Castiel's suitcase.

"Enjoying the view?"

"Very much."

She giggles. "Come in, he'll only be a little while longer. That 'Cuda's almost done."

Castiel follows her into the building, and sets his other two bags down.

"So, everything's taken care of, I have him scheduled off the rest of this week and all of next week. Take your time getting back here. We can hold down the fort and he hasn't taken a vacation in years."

"You're wonderful, Jo. I can see why he's come to rely on you."

She blushes slightly, clearly pleased with the praise. "It's no biggie. He does so much for all of us, it's the least we can do. Bobby's going to come in next week to cover the mechanical end of things, and Benny and I'll pick up the rest of the slack."

"Thank you. I can't say it enough."

She grins.

"Hey!" Dean grins as he enters the office. "I didn't see you pull up." He leans in for a quick kiss. "Let me go scrub my hands, then we'll get out of here." He walks quickly to the back, where his own office is. Dean's back a few minutes later, keys in hand, and he starts gathering Castiel's bags. "Ok, Jo, you've got my cell, call me if you need anything. I'm out of here!" He grabs Castiel's hand. "Come on, let's book."

They load everything in the Impala, and head back to Dean's. The plan is to go to dinner after Dean showers, but Castiel's sitting on the bed, watching Dean strip down, and it's not long after he starts the water that Castiel's clothes disappear and he joins Dean in the shower.

Castiel washes Dean's hair, scrubbing every inch of his scalp, Dean leaning back against him, happy little sounds issuing from his mouth. And once the coconut body wash comes out…

It's about an hour before they consider the fact they haven't eaten yet, curled up together on Dean's crisp white sheets. Castiel is sitting propped up in the pillows, Dean laying across his chest. They're holding hands, and the window is open, the May afternoon mild, birdsong and children's laughter floating in on the breeze.

It's comfortable, and comforting, and Castiel realizes how much he lives for the moments he spends in this man's arms. He nuzzles his nose into Dean's hair, breathing in the fresh scent.

He wants to tell him, hell, he's going to tell him, and he opens his mouth to do so, but Dean sits up, grins, and hops out of bed.

"I'm hungry," he says, pulling on a pair of jeans, "let's go get something to eat."

Castiel sighs, and gets up, finds his jeans and gets dressed.

He's got all weekend, after all.

* * *

Dean lets Cas drive the Impala to the restaurant.

The man can't get the grin off his face, so when they're done, he lets him take it out on 70 and floor it. Cas grins, and Dean pops Metallica's Reload in, turning up _Fuel_ as loud as they can tolerate. The speed limit is 70mph on 70, but Cas is doing about 85, and Dean finds that he's perfectly ok with it.

And he never lets _anyone_ drive baby.

They get back to his place around nine, and Cas helps him move all his bags down to the front door, so they'll be ready when the driver comes for them in the morning. Dean gets some pie out of the fridge, apple, and he and Cas curl up on the couch.

Cas puts his arm around Dean, and he happily snuggles closer. He's so happy right now, despite the worry in the back of his mind that Crowley's going to pull some kind of crazy revenge stunt.

He forgets that, as Cas starts kissing and licking his neck, tugging lightly on his ear lobe, hot breath in his ear.

"We should go to bed," he whispers, and Dean nods.

In Dean's room, Cas undresses him slowly, then lays Dean out on the bed. Dean watches while Cas pulls his own clothes off, never taking his eyes off of Dean.

"I missed you," he murmurs, as he kisses his way up Dean's body. "I missed you so much. I thought about you every day."

"I thought about you too. That was a long ass week."

"It was. But it's over, and we've got all weekend. And we're going to have so much fun." Cas leans down, and kisses him, hands traveling over Dean's body. "And we're going to do everything we want to do."

He drops his mouth to Dean's neck, trails his tongue down his throat, then his chest, then Cas's mouth is right there, and Dean's back arches as he's surrounded by tight, wet heat.

If he lives to be a hundred and eighty, Dean will never, ever get tired of this.


	17. California Dreamin'

When Castiel wakes, it's to darkness and the sounds of soft whimpering punctuated by a softly whispered _no_.

He sits up and switches on the bedside lamp and turns to look at Dean, whose face is scrunched up, head tossing slightly against the pillow. He's clearly having a nightmare. His breathing is erratic, he's got his hands twisted tightly in the sheets, and there's faint sheen of sweat on his brow.

"Dean," Castiel calls softly, "Wake up."

He doesn't respond, he's still whimpering. "I'm sorry," he murmurs brokenly, "I'm so sorry."

"Dean! Wake up!" Castiel shakes him slightly, and Dean's eyes fly open and he gasps, staring blankly for a second, then he blinks, focuses on Castiel.

"Wha?"

"I think you were having a nightmare. Are you ok?"

Dean looks alarmed, then covers his face with his hand. "I'm ok. I'm fine." He doesn't take his hand away from his face, and he rolls towards Castiel. "I'm fine, Cas. Let's just go back to sleep."

Castiel frowns, but switches the light off, and lays down beside him. "Hey," he gently pulls Dean's hand away from his face, "It's ok, I'm here. You're safe. It's ok."

Dean reaches for him, and Castiel pulls him in, wrapping his arms around him as Dean buries his face in his shoulder.

"I'm glad you're here," he says, his voice muffled, and Castiel holds him tighter. Dean's breathing slowly evens out again, and he drifts off. Castiel wonders what the nightmare was about, and if it's a leftover of his time overseas.

"I won't leave you, Dean," he whispers into the sleeping man's hair, and follows him down into sleep.

The next morning, there's no mention of the nightmare, and they shower together, and playfully shove each other while brushing their teeth at the sink. They get dressed quickly, and Castiel makes them a quick breakfast of bacon and eggs.

They've just finished tidying up when there's a honk from the driveway, and they drag all the bags out to the porch.

"Four days, and we've got two suitcases, two garment bags, and a carry-on apiece. How the hell do we need six bags for four days?" Dean huffs as he drags Castiel's largest suitcase down the steps, struggling to keep his carry-on over his shoulder as he struggles with the case. The driver of the limo gets out and helps Dean get the bag into the trunk and then comes up to the porch for the others.

"Nice clothes need a garment bag. And we don't know what the weather's going to be like, so extra things needed to be packed."

"Pain in my ass," Dean grumbles good-naturedly. "A limo, huh? Going in style."

"Just get in the car," Castiel retorts with a grin. They settled into the back seat, Dean leaning up against him. He hands him a pair of Ray Bans. "Got you your own pair. You look great in them, and you'll probably need them."

Dean slides them on, and they do look good. Hell, he just looks good in general for that matter, in dark blue denim, and that damn Stones shirt Castiel keeps trying to make his own, and a thin black jacket. Castiel notes that he's picked up hair gel again, and Dean's light brown hair is perfectly spiked, although he didn't shave this morning.

Castiel leans across the seat and licks a little trail up Dean's neck, to just below his ear.

"The partition's up you know. We could totally fool around back here," he whispers in Dean's ear. The other man's eyebrow quirks.

"Are you trying to seduce me?"

"Always."

Dean grins, and Castiel takes that as an invitation to climb into his lap, a knee on either side of Dean's hips.

"Don't want to make a mess in this fancy car, Cas," Dean says with a smirk.

"Hmm, you're right." He slides off of Dean's lap, onto his knees on the floor of the car, and starts undoing Dean's belt buckle. Dean chuckles.

"God, I love when I'm right."

* * *

Dean buckles his seat belt, and settles into his first class seat. Despite Cas's presence, his palms are sweaty and his heart is racing. And they haven't even taxied away from the gate yet.

"You need to calm down. It's going to be fine."

"I'm trying," Dean says without conviction.

"It's going to be ok, I'm right here and nothing's going to happen." Cas reaches across the arm rest and takes Dean's hand, tightly intertwining their fingers. "Just breathe, deep breaths, in through your mouth and out through your nose."

"I'm not in labor, Cas," Dean gripes.

"No kidding."

Dean's grip on Cas's hand tightens as the plane starts moving, and by the time they're on the runway, Dean's practically hyperventilating.

"Dean. Dean, you have to breathe, you're going to pass out!"

"That would be a relief!"

"Just hang on, as soon as we're in the air, I'll get you a whiskey or something. Breathe dammit! Good God, how did you handle all those overse…" Cas cuts himself off. "The flight to New York," he amends, but the damage is done.

Dean stops dead, fear suddenly gone, as he stares at Cas suspiciously. "You weren't going to say New York. What were you going to say, Cas?"

The other man sighs, and stares down at his lap. "Nothing."

"Bullshit. You were going to say "overseas", weren't you?"

Cas's lack of response tells Dean everything he needs to know, and he feels the blood drain from his face.

"Who told you?" he asks quietly.

"Does it matter? I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bring that up, but you had a nightmare last night, and Sam said…"

"Sam. Should have known."

"Crap. Can't keep my mouth shut today."

Dean looks away, and pulls his hand out of Cas's. They're in the air now, but Dean doesn't care. He doesn't want to have this conversation. Not now, not like this.

"Dean, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought it up. But, nothing you did over there…"

"Cas. No. I can't. I can't talk about this. I just can't."

"I know. But when you can, you have people that want to help. You are not alone. That's all I'm trying to say. I'm here, Sam's here. You don't have to deal with this alone."

Dean nods, and inhales shakily.

"Look, if nothing else, I distracted you enough to get us in the air."

Dean actually smiles at that, and lets Cas weave their fingers back together.

He wants to tell him. He wants to tell Cas the whole dirty business, the ugliness of the war, and the things he and Benny went through, and maybe he will. Maybe if this thing between them lasts, maybe Dean will tell Cas all his ugly, dirty secrets.

But it won't be this weekend. There's something else he's planning to tell Cas this weekend, and it's the exact opposite of the war. It's something amazing, and he's burning with it, but Dean wants to wait until the perfect time.

Gladly taking the tumbler of Jameson the flight attendant hands him, Dean relaxes back in his seat, and smiles over at Cas, who returns the smile with a squeeze of his hand.

"Feeling a little bit better?"

"Yeah. Just figure out something to distract me while we're landing."

"Oh, I'm sure I can think of something," he replies with a wink.

* * *

"Wow."

They walk through the front door of the house in Yountville, and Dean takes another look around.

"Wow. Damn."

And he's right to be impressed, Castiel thinks, the house is gorgeous.

The outside is all Spanish tile and river rock, exposed weathered wood columns, and artfully landscaped gardens. Inside is more exposed wood and rock, and huge open rooms. They're greeted by a man who takes their bags and tells Castiel that they're the first to arrive and by default get the largest bedroom.

"Excellent. Last year, I was the last one here and got the smallest bedroom. Of course, I was the only single, so I guess it made sense."

Dean's only half paying attention, too busy checking out the massive stone fireplace, and the huge windows that look out over the vineyards. "This is amazing. Seriously." He's standing by the window, the early afternoon sunlight dancing in his hair, and he turns to smile at Castiel. "This place is incredible."

Castiel crosses the hardwood floor to stand behind him, and wraps his arms around his waist. "You're incredible," he whispers in Dean's ear, and kisses his neck. "Come on, I'll give you the tour."

He takes Dean through the house, showing him the entertainment room, with the massive flat screen taking up almost the entirety of one wall, leather couches and recliners spread throughout. Then it's on to the library, built-in oak shelves loaded with books, many of which Dean eyes with interest, and a long matching oak table with green glass-shaded lamps strategically placed along it's length. There are burgundy leather chairs, and an impressive Mac computer sitting on an oak desk.

Next is the kitchen, tall amber colored oak cabinets, and gold granite counters, stainless appliances, and a brick oven. Another long oak table with matching ladder back chairs sits in a sunny windowed nook, a bowl of apples in the center.

"It's like something out of a magazine," Dean says, amazement in his voice. "I love it."

Castiel smiles.

He takes Dean out to the courtyard next, gorgeously appointed gardens, stone patios, a hot tub, and an infinity pool, wrought iron chaise lounges with pristine white cushions and matching umbrellas stationed around the pool in pairs.

"Can we stay here forever?" Dean asks happily, taking in the view of the vineyards and beyond that, the Mayacamose Mountains. Castiel nuzzles his neck.

"I haven't even shown you our room yet." He pulls Dean back into the house, and leads him up a stone and wrought iron staircase.

They pass many dark stained oak doors, then Castiel pushes open the one at the very end of the hall.

"Holy friggin' cow," Dean murmurs, as he takes it all in.

This room is the biggest in the house, and it's as big as the entire first floor of Castiel's loft. The hard wood floors match the deep oak tones seen in the rest of the house, and the walls are painted a deep tan. There are throw rugs with a floral pattern in burgundies, golds, and deeps greens scattered throughout. Directly across from the entry door is a set of French doors, open to reveal a large balcony.

There's a sitting area, oak coffee table surround by an over-stuffed deep burgundy leather couch and a matching arm chair. An entertainment armoire sits across from the couch. To the left of the sitting area is an enormous oak four post canopy bed, king sized, with cream drapes tied back at each of the four posts. Matching nightstands sit on either side of the bed, and a large dresser with matching mirror is on the right. The bedding is also white, with gold and green accent pillows tucked in here and there.

Through another door is the bathroom, complete with a big spa tub, and more granite and river rock. There's also a walk-in closet with a dressing room, and when Castiel shows it to Dean, he can see all their bags inside. He busies himself with pulling out their suits and tuxes and hanging them, while Dean wanders around the room, looking at everything, little sounds of awe escaping his lips.

When Castiel is done in the closet, he wanders back into the bedroom, and sees Dean's shadow on the balcony. He joins him out there, taking in the view of the mountains in the distance. Their room is over the courtyard, and they have a lovely view of the gardens and the pool.

"This has got to be the nicest place I've ever stayed. It's amazing."

"I'm glad you like it," Castiel says, as he pulls Dean in for a kiss. "We're going to have a wonderful weekend."

Dean smiles at him happily.

"Don't I know it," he grins, and Castiel kisses him breathless.

* * *

Since they were the first to arrive, and apparently this thing has not so official protocols, Dean and Cas are responsible for making dinner for the other couples.

Giada De Laurentiis and her husband, Todd Thompson, are the next to arrive, and Dean likes them both instantly, especially after the petite chef declined his offered hand and hugged him instead. Ted and Barry show up next, followed shortly by Bobby, who's solo until Saturday, Stephanie staying behind in New York to finish filming the project she's currently working on. Michael Symon and his wife Liz are the last to arrive, and he playfully bitches about getting the smallest room this year, which turns out to be at least as big as Dean's own roomy bedroom back home, so Dean doesn't feel too bad about it.

Cas and Dean get busy in the kitchen, and Dean's concerned he doesn't have what it takes to cook for people, who in his mind, are legends, but Cas gets him working anyway, and before too long, everyone is gathered around the table, passing dishes, and refilling wine glasses, and the chatter gets loud and rowdy as everyone drinks entirely too much wine.

"So who's hosting this shindig anyway?" Cas asks the room at large, and Bobby throws a cork at him.

"Didn't you read any of the paperwork?"

"Why would I do that?"

Bobby rolls his eyes. "I am. My turn this year. I should make you do it, just for being obnoxious."

Cas chuckles.

"Who all's here?" Giada asks next.

"Damn. Didn't any of you read the paperwork?" Four chefs shake their heads. Dean laughs when Bobby rolls his eyes again.

"You guys suck. Guess you can wait 'til tomorrow."

"We can wait. So, Castiel, tell us about your new friend," Giada says with a smile, and Dean feels his cheeks heat.

"He restores cars," Mike offers helpfully. "His company did that amazing '66 Studebaker Cruiser Leno's always bragging about."

Dean blushes furiously.

"Really?" Ted asks with interest. "Impressive."

"It's just a car," Dean says quietly.

"He's beautiful and modest," Cas says proudly, and Dean feels like crawling under the table. He's not used to this type of attention. "You should see the black beast he drives every day. It's a '67 Impala, and she looks like she just rolled off the showroom floor."

"I'm gonna get you guys to do a car for me," Mike says, "I have one in mind. How about a '65 Ford Fairlane? I found a convertible in rough shape, but the frame's pretty solid. What do you think?"

"Oh, we could handle that. We did a '64 Fairlane last year, and it turned out pretty good. I really enjoyed that job."

"Sweet. I need to get on that then." The conversation turns away from Dean then, although he and Mike keep talking about the Fairlane, both of them getting excited about it. The party eventually ends up outside, with Todd and Bobby starting a fire in the outdoor fireplace, then graham crackers, chocolate and marshmallows are brought out, and some very expensive scotch, followed not long after by cigars, which Dean is really starting to find he likes, and mentions this to Bobby, and the man laughs and hands him three out of the box to keep.

Cas is sitting behind him on the chaise, and Dean leans back into the other man, relaxing, watching the trails of cigar smoke drift into the night through his slightly hazy eyes. Cas is rubbing his shoulders, and Dean's starting to get very drowsy. He's so comfortable, and he likes Cas's friends, pleased to discover they're all just as cool and friendly as Cas himself is. He sees them all having a lot of fun this weekend, and Mike Symon's mentioned that Guy Fieri also knows about Winchester and Sons and specifically mentioned that he was looking forward to meeting Dean this weekend.

That's an amazing feeling. He almost feels like he fits in here.

"We should go upstairs," Cas whispers, his breath hot in Dean's ear.

"Ok." He lets Cas pull him out of the chair, and they say goodnight to everyone, then head up the stairs to their room.

Dean's been looking forward to this night all day.

* * *

He kisses Dean long and deep, licking into his mouth, and keeps kissing him until Dean is breathless and wide eyed.

"Damn," he gasps.

Castiel smiles and pushes Dean back towards the bed.

"The beauty of this room, and the reason it's the most coveted, is in the way it's situated in the house." He gives Dean a shove and smiles when the other man topples back onto the bed. "So you can make all the noise you want," Castiel crawls up the bed towards Dean, "and no one can really hear you." He sinks his mouth onto Dean's again, then pulls back and kisses his neck. "And it has the best bed in the place. Big and fluffy and perfect. I could spend an entire day in this bed."

Castiel kneels on the bed, his knees straddling Dean's hips. "You have entirely too much clothing on."

"We should do something about that."

"We should. And I want to get in that tub. Come on," he says, grabbing Dean's hands and pulling him to his feet as he slides off the bed. He leads him to the bathroom, and starts the water in the tub, then turns and begins unbuttoning Dean's shirt. Sliding the fabric off his shoulders, he runs his hands over Dean's chest, mapping every inch, fingers ghosting over old scars and the ridges of his muscles.

Dean leans forward and kisses Castiel's neck, and Castiel lets his hands drift further down, until he finds Dean's belt buckle, and his nimble fingers make short work of it, pulling it out of his khaki pants and tossing it on the floor. Dean's hands have been busy too, and Castiel's shirt hits the floor, and his belt is the next to go.

Pants are gone next, then they're standing side by side at the tub, Dean's hands on Castiel's hips while he shuts off the water. Dean shucks his boxers and gets in first, hissing slightly at the heat of the water. Castiel follows suit and joins him, leans his back against Dean and relaxes in the heat.

Dean cards his fingers through Castiel's hair, and kisses his neck. Castiel shifts in the tub, turning to face Dean, and they kiss, soft and sweet, hands joined. They sit in the tub for a long time, just enjoying being with each other, until the water grows cool. They wash each other and get out, Castiel wrapping a thick white towel around Dean before getting his own. He takes his hand, and pulls him out to the bedroom.

"I want you," Castiel whispers, his hands drifting down to Dean's hips. He presses their lips together, and Dean responds, his tongue darting out, swiping around Castiel's bottom lip before slipping inside his mouth. He pulls Dean to the bed, the towels dropping to the floor.

Pushing Dean down onto the bed, Castiel crawls up beside him, and they resume kissing, the sweet and soft quickly making way for the fierce and heated.

"Wanna try something different?" Castiel asks between kisses. Dean doesn't answer, but Castiel decides he's going to go for it anyway. He twists his body until he's lying beside Dean, his face level with Dean's hips, his feet up near the head of the bed.

Castiel takes Dean in his mouth, swiping his tongue across the slit of Dean's cock, then dropping lower, his tongue swirling around the raised ridge. Dean exhales noisily, and apparently gets the idea, because a moment later, his mouth is on Castiel, his tongue furiously swirling around Castiel's cock, his hands gripping his ass, fingers digging in.

Being with Dean this way is overwhelming, as they both give and receive pleasure at the same time, and Castiel's rocketing to completion far faster than he wants to, so he pulls off of Dean, and turns again so that they're face to face. He pulls the lube out from under the pillow where he'd stashed it earlier.

"I want to ride you," he whispers against Dean's mouth. "I want to feel you inside of me."

Dean nods, eyes hooded with desire, pupils blown, and he slides his hands down Castiel, fingers dancing around his entrance. His hands find the lube, and he preps Castiel slowly, maddeningly, Castiel thrusting impatiently into his fingers.

"Dammit, I'm ready. Lay down."

Dean complies with a smile, rolling over to lie on his back in the middle of the huge bed. "Well let's get to it then," he growls.

Climbing on top of him, knees straddling Dean's hips, Castiel lowers himself onto him, both of them groaning as he sinks all the way onto Dean's cock. Dean arches his back, thrusting further into Castiel. Their hands joined, Castiel slowly begins rocking up and down, taking it slow, wanting to draw the pleasure out as long as possible.

Before long, they're both overwhelmingly close, Dean's hand jacking him in time with Castiel's increasingly erratic thrusts. Dean comes first, with a shout, and Castiel rides him through the aftershocks, and he comes soon after, Dean's hand still jacking him.

He collapses onto Dean's shoulder, and they both lay there for a moment, catching their breath, then Castiel reaches down for one of the towels and cleans them up. He curls into Dean, breathing in the scent of the man, coconuts and clean sweat.

If there was ever a perfect time to tell him, it's now, when they're both flush with the afterglow, wrapped in each other's arms.

"Dean. Dean, I love you," he whispers, and waits for the reaction. It never comes. Dean's already long gone.

Castiel chuckles, and snuggles in closer, content and sated in the arms of his lover.


	18. Dance With Me

"Welcome to Food Network's third annual Napa Valley Kickoff to Summer Food and Wine Festival! I'm Bobby Flay, your host this year, and we've got some awesome things planned for you!"

Dean's sitting in the front row under the huge tent that's been set up for the cooking demos. Up on the stage, Bobby Flay's about to introduce all the chefs and personalities in attendance this year, and Dean can't wait to see Cas.

Bobby's introducing all the chefs, names Dean's totally familiar with. There's the crew that's staying in the house with them, and Cas of course, plus Alex Guarnaschelli, Anne Burrell, Geoffrey Zakarian, Sunny Anderson, Michael Chiarello, John Besh, Alton Brown, Marc Murphy, and of course, Guy Fieri, and when he's introduced, he runs up on stage and hip checks Cas so hard he slams into Mike Symon, and Mike reaches behind Cas and slaps Guy on the back of the head.

Dean thinks that's about the funniest thing he's ever seen. The three of them act like brothers, a point that's driven home over the next hour, as they have the first segment, the three of them doing a grilling demo. Tomatoes and heads of lettuce are thrown, jokes are cracked, and the audience is in stitches.

Cas is wearing khaki shorts and a blue and white plaid button down, Docksiders on his feet. His Ray Bans are perched on his head, and he's grinning like an idiot. Dean loves every moment of the demo, and he loves the aftermath even more, when he gets to meet Guy Fieri.

"Dean Winchester, dude, it's a pleasure. I've read all about your company. You guys are on the move!"

"Thanks. It's freakin' awesome to meet you, too."

"I hear you're gonna do a Fairlane for Symon. Have my eye on a '69 Olds 442. Think I could get in on this deal?"

"Definitely." Dean pulls out his wallet and gives Guy a card. "Just give us a call when you're ready. I'd be honored." Dean's practically floating. This guy is a _legend _and he's acting like meeting _Dean_ is a big deal. It's the most amazing feeling in the world.

"Castiel, bring your boy over to Tex Wasabi's before you head back, and I'll treat you guys."

"We can do that," Cas replies, "it's only about an hour from here," he says to Dean.

"Cool."

"Ok, I'm off, I have an autograph session next. See ya!"

Cas wraps an arm around Dean and kisses him on the cheek. "You having fun?"

"Oh, hell yeah. That was amazing."

"I knew you'd like him. We'll head over to Santa Rosa after we close this up Sunday morning. Now, come with me, I've got plans for you, Mister."

"I'll bet," Dean says with a smirk.

* * *

Friday is a whirlwind of cooking demos, autograph sessions, photo-ops, personal appearances, and spending as much time as possible with Dean.

They've been on a vineyard tour, and had dinner at The French Laundry, and Dean got to meet another of Castiel's friends, Chef Thomas Keller. They spent Friday evening after dinner drinking on the patio with the gang back at the house. They don't even have sex that night, both of them so exhausted by the time they get out of their suits that they collapse into bed and promptly pass out.

There's no time Saturday morning, Castiel forgot to set his alarm and they oversleep, then they have to rush through showers and breakfast, and they're already back at the festival before Dean realizes he has on Castiel's khaki shorts from the day before. Castiel can't help but laugh at him, especially after Dean complains about how he never wears shorts.

There's barely time to do more than kiss Dean's cheek before Bobby and Giada are dragging him up on stage to do a wine and food pairing demo. Then it's more photo-ops, cookbook signings and other personal appearance stuff.

Dean handles it all like a champ, never far from Castiel's line of sight, smiling and shaking hands with strangers, grinning like a madman when he finally gets to talk to Alton Brown. Dean's clearly having a great time, and that's all Castiel was worried about.

When they're finally done at three, Castiel leads Dean out to the 2013 Corvette he's rented for the weekend.

"So now what?" Dean asks, as he pulls the keys from his pocket.

"Now we head back to the house and get all spiffed up in our tuxes for the benefit tonight. Can't wait to see you all dressed up," Castiel leers over the roof of the car. "I might even let you leave it on for a while."

Dean chuckles loudly as he unlocks the car. "Well, there's always later tonight. Not planning on sleeping in the thing, so you'll be able to take it off me later." He grins and disappears into the car. Castiel smiles and gets in as well.

"Damn, I love this car." Dean revs the engine and pulls out of the parking lot, squealing the tires on the black top as they head back to the house.

"So, there's something I need to tell you, but it's nothing bad."

"Ok."

"I talked to Jo and Benny, and they made arrangements for Bobby to come in this week, so you have the whole week off of work!"

Dean looks confused. "Why?"

"Because Jo told me you haven't taken a vacation in years and San Francisco is amazing. There are places I want to take you, and things I want to do with you, so you're taking a vacation. With me."

Dean has an interesting look on his face, and Castiel's not sure if he's pleased or annoyed.

"Can we go to Alcatraz?" he asks with a wry grin.

"Of course."

"Cool, I've always wanted to see that place."

"Anything you want to do, Dean. We're going to have a great time."

Dean smiles and reaches across the console of the Vette to take Castiel's hand. "Do we get to keep this beast?"

Castiel laughs. "I said whatever you want, Dean."

Dean smiles, and puts the pedal to the floor. "Awesome!"

* * *

Big band music drifts out of the massive tent the benefit's being held in, women in sparkly dresses and men in tuxedos milling about in the surrounding vineyard.

Dean feels completely out of his element. This is so not his scene. Cas seems to notice that he's hanging back slightly, and takes Dean's hand, pulling it up to his mouth to kiss it.

"Come on. You're going to be fine, and you look amazing. Everyone in there's going to be jealous of me."

Sweeping his eyes over the other man, Dean grins. Cas looks amazing, his tux perfectly cut, with a black silk tie and matching vest. "More likely they'll be jealous of me."

"Flattery will get you everywhere, Winchester. Come on." Cas tightens his grip on Dean's hand and leads him into the tent.

Dean takes a good look around, his jaw dropping.

The tent is lit with thousands upon thousands of white fairy lights. There are also pale green and lilac colored Chinese lanterns interspersed amongst the tent's roof supports. Dozens of round tables with crisp white table cloths line the edges of the tent. There's a white dance floor in front a raised platform where a full big band is playing _Witchcraft_.

Each table has a huge flower arrangement dripping with orchids and vines and surrounded by little candles. There's crystal stemware, and linen napkins, and everything is so posh, Dean's starting to squirm again. The last time he was this surrounded by opulence, he was at his and Bela's engagement party, and that was, without a doubt, the most uncomfortable night of his life.

Cas smiles reassuringly at him, and pulls him to a table. Bobby and Stephanie are there, Stephanie in a gorgeous form-fitting red silk sheath, Giada next to her in navy, and next to her is Todd. Ted and Barry, Mike and Liz, and Guy and his wife, Lori, are also seated at the table.

Dean and Cas take their seats just in time for the first course.

As dinner continues and the wine flows, Dean finally starts to relax. Cas is holding his hand under the table, occasionally leaning over to whisper compliments in his ear.

"You look so amazing. I can't keep my eyes off of you."

Dean smiles, and squeezes Cas's hand. He's floating on a happy buzz of alcohol and contentment. Dean's in love. It's the best feeling in the world, and he's going to tell Cas tonight. He's determined. He just needs the right moment.

The band starts playing _I've Got You Under My Skin, _and Cas squeezes Dean's hand again.

"Dance with me?"

"Dude. Seriously?"

"Yes, seriously."

"But…"

"But what?"

Dean looks around, at the distinctly male and female couples on the dance floor. "Well, besides the fact that I don't know how to dance, how about the fact that we'd be the only two dudes out there?"

"No you won't," Ted says suddenly, and he stands and extends a hand towards Barry, who smiles and lets Ted lead him out to the dance floor.

"See? As for the not being able to dance part, just follow my lead." Cas stands and holds out his hand. "Dance with me Dean." He smiles down at him, and Dean can't resist.

"Ok."

* * *

Dean feels so good in his arms as Castiel leads him across the floor.

He was stiff and nervous at first, but he gradually relaxed, and they're on their second song now, _Beyond the Sea_, and he's hoping he can keep Dean out here long enough to get to the song Castiel requested. Dean smiles at him, and he smiles back, leaning in for a soft kiss.

"I had no idea I'd actually enjoy this," Dean whispers in Castiel's ear.

"It's always fun to try new things." Castiel runs his hand down Dean's back. They both have an arm wrapped around each other's waist, and their other hands are joined, Castiel holding them against his chest. "You look so amazing, Dean. Every single person in this room is jealous of me."

Dean blushes faintly. "I don't know about that."

"I do. You're gorgeous, you're amazing, you're perfect and wonderful, and anyone in this room would be glad to have you. But you're here with me. You're mine." Castiel spins Dean around, making the other man grin, and he pulls him in tighter.

"I'm having a great time, Cas. I'm glad you invited me."

"And we have all this week too. I'm going to show you one hell of a great time."

"You already are. I don't know if I can handle much more," Dean says with a smirk.

The next song starts, it's the one Castiel was waiting for, and Dean recognizes it immediately.

"_La Vie en Rose_? Did you request this?"

"I did. I'd like to think it's becoming our song."

"I could live with that," Dean replies, and he lays his head on Castiel's shoulder. They sway to the music for a while, Castiel softly singing the lyrics in Dean's ear, reveling in the weight of the man's head on his shoulder. He's so in love with Dean. He's gone, and he's loving every minute of it.

"Cas?" Dean pulls his head up, his eyes bright and green as he smiles at him.

"Yeah Dean?"

"Remember a few weeks ago? The weekend of Sam's birthday, when we took a bath together?"

"Of course I remember that. Why?"

Dean's face grows very solemn, and he looks down at the floor for a second. When he looks back at Castiel, there's a shy smile on his face, and his cheeks are flushed.

"I'm ready."

"Ready for? Oh."

"Yeah. I'm ready, Cas. I'm ready."

Castiel's heart skips a beat, and the temperature in the tent jumps ten degrees.

"Are you sure, Dean?"

"Completely," he whispers huskily. "I want you. I want to feel you inside me. Take me back to the house, Cas?"

* * *

Cas takes him by the hand at the front door, and leads him up to their room, stopping briefly in the kitchen to snag a bottle of champagne and two glasses.

They've been touching the whole way back, Dean too buzzed to drive, so he contented himself with leaning over the Vette's console to kiss and nibble on Cas's neck. He's been turned on since they started dancing, and as Cas pulls him into the bedroom and shuts the door, Dean feels like he's about to spontaneously combust.

He shucks off his tux jacket and tosses it over a chair, the yanks off the bowtie and tosses it in the same general direction. Dean's just started on his vest when Cas stops him, his hands over Dean's.

"No, stop, slow down. We have all night, and I don't want to rush this, ok?"

Dean takes a deep breath, and nods. "I'm ready, Cas."

"I know. But I want to take my time. I've been waiting for this since I met you." He leans forward and nuzzles his nose along Dean's neck. "We're going to take our time, and I'm going to make this so good for you. I swear it."

"I know you will. I trust you."

Cas smiles, then goes to open the champagne. "Don't take anymore clothes off. I want to undress you. I'm going to unwrap you like the gift that you are."

Dean's cheeks heat. "Dude, that was seriously corny."

"I know. It sounded better in my head," he grins wryly. The cork on the champagne pops, and Cas pours two glasses. "But I mean it," he says as he hands Dean a glass, then wraps an arm around his waist to pull him in close, "you are a gift. I've been waiting for you for a long time, Dean."

Dean smiles, and sips the champagne, the bubbly adding to his already present buzz. Cas releases him, and moves around the room, lighting candles, and putting on music. Foreigner's _I Want to Know What Love Is_ fills the room.

"You really know how to romance a guy, huh, Cas? Champagne, candles, Foreigner? I'm impressed."

"I haven't even really gotten started yet, sweetheart," Cas says with a smirk, and Dean smiles at the nickname. Cas shuts off all the lights in the room until there's only candlelight. "Now, I'm going to get out of this tux, but you're going to stay dressed. I want to undress you."

Dean feels his cheeks heat again, but he leaves his tux on, and watches as Cas quickly strips down to his boxers.

"Come here," Cas says, holding out a hand from where he's standing next to the bed. Dean drains his glass and sets it on the dresser. Cas pulls him in, and cups his chin in his hand. "God, you're beautiful," he murmurs, his hand sliding down Dean's arm as he leans in for a kiss. His nimble fingers find the buttons on the vest, and he slowly unbuttons each one, then slides the fabric off of Dean's shoulders.

"So beautiful," Cas purrs in Dean's ear. He makes much faster work of Dean's shirt, then starts in on his pants, and Dean's feeling completely swept away as Cas pushes him back onto the bed, then yanks off his shoes. His socks, and then his pants quickly follow, and they're lying side by side on the bed, legs tangled together.

"Cas. I want you. Please."

Castiel kisses him, long and deep, tongue sweeping past Dean's teeth, and Dean arches his back off the bed, pressing his chest against Cas's. Cas breaks away, trailing his lips and tongue down Dean's neck, then moving to his chest. He kisses his way down Dean's torso, then sits up slightly, hooking his fingers under the waistband of Dean's boxers, yanking them off in one fluid movement. Dean barely has time to catch his breath before Cas's mouth is on him, and his hands instinctively find Cas's hair.

"Oh fuck, Cas. Fuck," Dean breathes, his heart doing it's damn best to beat out of his chest. Cas chuckles around his cock, dark head bobbing up and down, tongue swirling around. His hands are everywhere, smoothing over Dean's inner thighs, cupping his balls, and there's so much sensation, it's almost more than he can take.

There's music playing in the background, he thinks it's Sting, but he's lost in the feel of Cas sweeping him away. He's getting closer and closer, and the heat is building, and he's going to come, and of course, that's when Cas stops.

Dean lets out a very pathetic whimper, and Cas just grins.

"I'll get you there, don't worry. But I told you. We're taking this slow." Cas sits up on the bed, and strips off his own boxers, then reaches under the pillow, pulling out a small bottle of lube. "Are you ready?"

Dean nods. "I'm ready, Cas. I'm ready."

* * *

Castiel trails his fingers down Dean's thighs, loving the view before him. Dean's flushed, his chest is heaving, sweat beading on his forehead. He's beautiful, he's gorgeous, and he's all Castiel's.

"I need you to tell me if anything hurts. I won't hurt you. I don't want to hurt you, so tell me. Ok?"

"I trust you, Cas," Dean says quietly, nervousness in his eyes.

"Ok, just relax. We're going to take this nice and slow." Castiel dribbles some lube onto his fingers, then lets his hand drift down until his fingers find Dean's entrance. He leans in for a kiss, his fingers gently circling the tight ring of muscle there. "Stay relaxed, baby, ok?"

Dean nods, and Castiel gently slips his finger inside. Dean exhales, and his whole body tenses.

"No, babe, you have to relax. Let go, I won't hurt you," he says, leaning down to kiss Dean. "Relax."

He does, and Castiel slides his finger all the way inside, Dean gasping, but he stays relaxed.

"That's it. You're doing so well," Castiel murmurs in his ear, "so beautiful." He moves his finger in and out slowly. Dean's breathing heavy, his eyes closed, head tilted back into the pillow. He's looser now, and Castiel adds a second finger.

Dean inhales noisily, his eyes flutter open. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."

"Am I hurting you?"

"No. Not hurting. Fuck."

Castiel chuckles against Dean's neck. "Feels good, doesn't it?"

"Fuck, yes, fuck."

Castiel thrusts his fingers in and out, using a little more force, and Dean's hips are moving involuntarily. He twists and scissors, and he knows the second he finds Dean's prostate because the other man arches violently off the bed with a groan.

"Oh fuck. Cas. Oh fuck. Oh fuck."

Dean's getting close again, just from his fingers, and Castiel grins as he adds a third. Dean whines, wraps his hand in Castiel's hair and pulls him in tight for a scorching kiss, lost in the sensation, moaning against Castiel's lips when he pulls away.

"Fuck, Cas, I'm ready. Dammit, I'm ready. Fuck me dammit, just fucking do it."

Castiel ignores him, and continues fucking Dean with his fingers, determined to ensure that Dean truly is ready. He won't hurt him. If Castiel has his way, no one will ever hurt Dean again, in any way. Dean's his, and he's more than ready to stake his claim.

"God, Cas, please," Dean whines, and it's more than Castiel can take. He moves into position between Dean's legs, gently pushing his thighs apart. He applies a generous coat of lube to his own dick, then lines up.

"Wrap your legs around my waist," he growls, and Dean complies quickly. "Relax, and breathe."

* * *

Dean's on fire. His whole body is burning and he's on fire. And if he's going to die, well, this is one hell of a way to go.

Cas pushes in, impossible stretch and slow burn, and Dean helplessly arches into him. He can feel the solidness of Cas's hips flush against him, and he tightens the grip of his legs around the other man's waist.

"Are you ok?"

"Fuck, Cas, I'm fine. I'm good. Holy shit," he gasps. Every inch of Dean's skin is hyper-sensitized. He's burning up, Cas is pure fire and he's burning him up. And he loves it.

Cas pulls out slightly, then pushes back in. "Oh fuck, Dean," he groans, voice wrecked. "So tight, so fucking tight." He pulls out again, then pushes back in, building a steady rhythm.

It's like nothing Dean's ever felt before, he's so full, Cas's cock taking up every inch of him. "Fuck, Cas, why the hell did I wait so long?"

Dropping his head, Cas kisses him, slipping his tongue in past Dean's lips, and Dean reaches up behind him, wrapping his arms around Cas's shoulders, pulling him in close, kisses deepening and Cas's hips pound out a faster, harder rhythm, both of them rocketing towards completion.

Neither of them say a damn thing, there's nothing but soft grunts and moans between them, and hands everywhere, in each other's hair, sweeping across backs and arms, and as Cas's thrusts become more erratic, he drops a hand to Dean's right leg, gripping his thigh tightly and pulling his leg up hard, yanking it over his shoulder and driving into Dean relentlessly, as he fights the rush of heat in his belly, determined to hold out as long as it takes for Cas to come.

"Come for me, Dean. Do it. I want to see you come."

It's too much, with Cas growling at him like that, and Dean arches his back, and comes with a harsh gasp, untouched, between his and Cas's bellies.

"Oh fuck, that's so fucking hot," Cas groans, and he thrusts into Dean, hard, twice more, then comes with a groan, collapsing onto Dean's chest. "Fuck," he gasps, breathing heavily into Dean's ear, hot breath tickling his neck.

They melt into each other, Cas's arm snaking around Dean's waist, pulling him close, and Dean grunts as he slips out of him, Cas doing his best to make up for that loss of contact by twisting his legs around Dean, while he presses soft kisses along his neck.

A wave of emotion sweeps over Dean, and he realizes if there was ever a perfect time, hell, this is it. It's time. It's beyond time.

"Cas?"

"Yeah, Dean?" Cas props his head up to look at him, blue eyes sparkling in the candlelight. Zep's _The Rain Song_ is playing in softly in the background, and as Dean smiles into Cas's face, he knows he's right, he knows what he's feeling is real. "You ok?"

"I'm better than ok, Cas. I'm great."

Cas smiles and runs a hand across Dean's cheek. "I'm glad."

"Cas. I um. I um."

"What?"

Dean takes a deep breath.

"I love you."

Cas's eyes widen.

"I mean it. I love you." Dean watches his face, suddenly concerned that's it's too soon, that he shouldn't have opened his stupid big mouth.

"Oh, Dean," Cas says happily, a huge smile on his face, "I love you, too. I think I have from the minute you opened that door and told me I couldn't buy the Impala." Cas takes Dean's face in his hands and kisses him. "I love you so much."

Dean wraps his arms around him and they snuggle close together, and for the first time in a very, _very _long time, Dean Winchester's heart is light and happy and at peace.

And he's right where he wants to be, where he wants to spend the rest of his life.

He's home, because he knows from now on, home is Castiel Novak's arms.


	19. Cracks

"You're insatiable," Cas growls, wrapping his arm tighter against Dean's waist, pulling Dean's back tight against his chest.

They're both kneeling in the middle of the bed, Cas driving into him from behind, and Dean lets his head fall back on Cas's shoulder.

Cas is right, since that first taste, since Dean's first time, he's been relentless, demanding, wanting to get fucked anytime Cas is willing. And Cas has been very, very willing.

They're staying a kitschy nautical themed hotel, The Argonaut, and it's very classy, with exposed brick and ship-shaped décor, gorgeous views of Fisherman's Wharf and the bay. From their window, Dean can even see Alcatraz, a place he got to visit the day before.

San Francisco's been amazing, when they've actually left the room that is, all beautiful weather, and cruising in the Corvette, top down and Zep's apropos _Going to California_ playing on the stereo. They've been to the Golden Gate, Lombard Street, rode a cable car, hit the best restaurants, and went to Chinatown, where Cas popped all kinds of strange little bites of unidentifiable foodstuffs in his mouth, and Dean ate everything, and enjoyed every moment.

And he's really enjoying the moment he's in right now.

Cas sweeps a hand down Dean's torso, his other arm still holding Dean firmly against him, powerful runner's thighs thrusting upward, sparks shooting across Dean's vision with every slam of Cas's body against him and inside him. Dean hooks his ankles over Cas's calves to keep himself upright, and reaches an arm back, wrapping his hand in Cas's hair, turning his head for a kiss.

Cas gets a firm grip on Dean's dick, hand pumping up and down, timing his strokes with the rhythm of his thrusts. Dean's reduced to soft moans and breathy gasps, every nerve in his body heated and gathered at the base of his spine, orgasm building to the breaking point. Cas pulls his earlobe into his mouth and lightly bites down, and that's all it takes, and Dean's gone, a sharp cry tumbling from his lips, heat spilling over Cas's hand as the other man continues to drive into him.

Dean's whole body relaxes, collapse imminent, but Cas just tightens his grip, drives into Dean several more times, and then he's coming, his grip on Dean almost painful. Cas holds on tight through the aftershocks, then he releases Dean, who tumbles head first into the bed with a groan, face buried in the pillows.

He feels Cas settle beside him, a warm hand on the small of his back. Dean turns his head to the side, to find Cas smiling at him.

"I love you," he murmurs, leaning over to kiss Dean's nose.

"I love you, too," Dean smiles back, loving the way saying those words make him feel, the newness of it all still taking his breath away.

"Let's get in the shower and actually go out for dinner tonight, ok?"

"Mmmff," Dean groans, burying his face back in the pillow.

"I'll tickle you, I swear."

"You wouldn't dare," Dean grumps into the pillow.

"Wouldn't I?"

Cas runs nimble fingers up Dean's side, and he squirms away, but the fingers follow him. It's not long before Cas has him flipped on his back and wiggling across the bed, trying half-heartedly to fight him off. It's not like he really hates it, after all. Dean reaches up and wraps his hand in Cas's hair and reels him in, lips crashing together, tickling forgotten, kisses growing deeper until they are both breathless.

"So," Cas smiles as he pulls away, brushing a hand through Dean's sweaty hair, "how about that shower?"

"Mmm, guess we could do that. Wash my back?"

"I'll wash all of you. Then dinner?"

"Sure. It's our last night here. Let's make the most of it."

"I've enjoyed every moment."

"Me, too," Dean replies with a smile, and lets Cas pull him to the bathroom.

* * *

The flight to Kansas City is uneventful. Dean isn't exactly calm, but he does ok.

They get in around 5:30, retrieve their bags, and find the limo easily. Dean snuggles up against Castiel in the car, half asleep by the time they get to his house. Castiel notices Sam's car in front of the place.

"Dean?"

"Mmm?"

"Did you know Sam was going to be here?"

Dean sits straight up and stares out of the window as the limo pulls in the driveway.

"No," he says slowly, "something's wrong." Dean's out of the car and in the house before Castiel can so much as get his seatbelt undone. Castiel's not far behind him though, and he finds the brothers in Dean's kitchen. Jess is standing by the sink, draining pasta, which she then adds to a bubbling pot of sauce on the stove.

"Everything's fine," Sam's saying, "we just thought you guys would be tired, and we decided to come make dinner for you. I brought the insurance papers for you to sign, but seriously, everything is fine."

Dean doesn't look convinced. "Are you sure? 'Cause I really have trouble believing you'd drive down here to get me to sign the papers when you could have just mailed them."

"It's fine, Dean. Really." Sam turns and pulls garlic bread from the oven. "Look, truth be told, I missed you and Cas, and just wanted to see you guys before Cas flies back to New York."

Castiel smiles at Sam, warmth filling him. Already, Dean's family seems to have accepted him as one of theirs. And that's a very good feeling. The Winchesters and their extended clan seem to love with everything in them, and if Castiel's being honest, that feeling of belonging is downright addicting.

"You're sure nothing's wrong?"

"I'm sure, Dean."

Dean's shoulders finally relax. "Ok. Come on Sam, help me with the luggage?"

"Sure."

"Help me with dinner, Cas?" Jess asks pleasantly, and a short time later, the four of them are sitting around the table, passing the garlic bread and spaghetti, Dean and Castiel telling amusing stories about San Francisco, Jess and Sam adding their own tales from their time at Stanford.

In all, it's a very relaxing evening, and Dean signs the papers for Sam just before they leave to head back to Overland Park. Castiel and Dean then spend the rest of the evening on the couch, watching a movie, just enjoying being together. Dean passes out halfway through _Raiders of the Lost Ark_, his head slumped on Castiel's shoulder.

Castiel's dreading his flight back to New York. If he had his way, he'd stay here forever, or better yet, move Dean up to NYC instead. This long distance crap is for the birds. Thank god he's got money, because if he couldn't fly to see Dean all the time, Castiel would probably lose his mind.

He's not afraid to admit it now, but Dean's everything, his whole world, in one gloriously beautiful package.

And he'll do whatever it takes to keep him.

* * *

The next few days are total and complete domestic bliss.

They arrived back in Lawrence on Wednesday evening, and had dinner with Sam and Jess, then Dean happily passed out on Cas's shoulder. He didn't even remember going to bed, but woke the next morning with Cas's warm hands mapping out every inch of his body.

Afterward, they made breakfast together, then went out for few hours, to Target and Hy-Vee, to fetch some household items Dean needed, and groceries for the rest of their week together.

Friday is a KU baseball game and dinner with Ben and Adam, and Ben spends the night. They play Monopoly until about two in the morning, tossing popcorn and gummy bears at each other and laughing about every little thing. Dean's reminded of the countless reasons he loves his son when the boy gives Cas a quick hug before bed as well.

Saturday is dinner at Bobby and Ellen's, with Jo in tow. It's wonderful, Dean and Cas working side by side with Ellen in the kitchen, and there's pie for desert. They laugh and chat well into the night, then go home and make love until the wee hours of the morning.

When Dean wakes late Sunday morning, it's with a smile on his face, and a lightness in his heart. They spend the day wrapped around each other on Dean's couch watching old movies, _Breakfast at Tiffany's_, _Casablanca_, _The Quiet Man_, _McLintock!_, and _Citizen Kane_. Cas makes a simple meal of pasta tossed with olive oil and cheese for dinner, and they finish out the evening with _Dirty Harry_, Dean quoting half the movie before he finally passes out on the couch again, this time with his head on a pillow in Cas's lap, the other man's nimble fingers carding through his hair.

A car comes for Cas at seven the next morning, and they kiss sweet and slow on the porch, then Dean leaves for work shortly thereafter.

He's smiling when he gets to the shop, and nothing, not even his co-workers gleefully ribbing him and harassing him about the trip, is going to upend his day because he's in love, and he's just had the best week and a half of his entire life.

Dean's the happiest guy in the whole damn world at the moment.

Which makes things that much harder to deal with when the shit hits the fan.

* * *

Gabriel picks Castiel up from JFK, and chatters the whole way back to his loft.

Kali has business out of town, and it's Monday, so Gabe's got the day off and is determined to spend it with his brother. He helps Castiel get all of his bags inside, then whips up lunch for them, fresh greens with seared nigella seed-crusted Ahi and a jalapeño-lime vinaigrette.

"This is delicious, Gabe, thanks."

"It's a bribe."

"Oh?" Castiel asks with a raised eyebrow.

"Yeah. Dish. How was your vacation?"

Castiel smiles. "Wonderful. Perfect. It was simply _amazing._ Dean told me he loves me."

"Aww," Gabe grins, not insincerely. "Glad things are going well, seriously. It's nice to see you so happy."

"He does make me happy. Dean is everything I ever wanted. He's gorgeous, smart, and perfect. I'm seriously considering asking him to move up here with me."

A frown crosses Gabe's face.

"You sure that's a good idea?"

"Yes. Why wouldn't it be?"

"Well, his whole family is in Kansas right? And his business? Wouldn't it make more sense for you to move there?"

Castiel shakes his head. "No, I have the restaurant, and the show. I can't move to Kansas."

"You can't just expect Dean to pack up his whole life and move up here, bro."

"Well I don't want to do the long-distance thing forever, Gabe."

"I get that. But you told me has a son out there, and his brother's wife is pregnant. You can't really think he'd be willing to leave all of that behind to move to New York."

Castiel frowns. He hadn't thought of that. Dean _was_ very dedicated to his family.

"I'm going to ask him anyway, next time I see him."

Gabe sighs heavily. "I think you're setting yourself up for heartbreak, Cassie. Dean doesn't sound like the type to abandon his family."

"He loves me."

"I'm sure he does. But he loves them too, and if you make him choose…" Gabe trails off.

Picking at his salad, no longer hungry, Castiel stares out of his big windows into the city below. Admittedly, he hadn't thought about Dean's family when he started making plans. He's sure Dean loves him, he'd bet money on it.

But Dean was a Winchester first. His love for his family is boundless. And it's a force to be reckoned with.

Castiel pushes his plate away.

"I wasn't trying to make you miserable or discourage you. I just want you to be realistic, little bro."

"I know. I need time to think."

"Ok. I'll see you later then?"

He nods his assent, and is barely aware of Gabe leaving, pulling the door to the loft shut behind him. Castiel's lost in his own thoughts, the cracks in his perfect world finally starting to show.

* * *

"Can he do this? Is this for real?"

Sam pages through the stack of documents, brow furrowed, a frown on his face. He'd come to the shop straight from his office after Dean's frantic phone call, still in his black designer suit, his tie loose around his neck and his top two buttons undone.

Dean's pacing his office, just like he has been for the past hour and a half, waiting for Sam to get there, his stomach roiling and the beginnings of a migraine forming.

Sam sets the first pile of paperwork down and takes the stack Jo is offering him, contracts he requested. He flips through them for a minute, cross-referencing with information in the original packet. He sighs heavily and looks up at Dean.

"Yes. He can do this."

Dean's shoulders slump and he drops wearily into his desk chair. "Sonuvabitch," he whispers dejectedly.

"We can fight him. He's got a case, but I can build one against him too. Especially when I call the failed partnership agreement into evidence. And the amount he's asking? That's suspicious too, since that's what he offered you. I've got that in writing, Dean. He's trying to intimidate you."

"It's working."

Crowley. The other shoe Dean was waiting to drop has finally fallen.

The man is suing Winchester and Sons Ltd. for breach of contract and lost profits over the late delivery of the '55 Chevy. To the convenient tune of $750,000.

"How the hell are we going to fight this, Sam?"

"With my badass lawyering skills, that's how. I can handle this, Dean. I'll flatten this asshat in court."

"I want to pay you. This is going to be a lot of work and…"

"No. I should be paying you. You put me through school, Dean."

"You got a scholarship…"

"And who made sure I had a car? And a better place to live than the dorms? Who made sure I had good food and not cafeteria crap? Who made sure I had spending money and new clothes and shoes? Who showed up three weeks into freshman year with a brand new Mac laptop? I know for a fact that while you were in the Army you sent half your money to me and the other half to Lisa. Dean, you give up everything you have to take care of the people around you. Let me return the favor, please? Let me take care of you for once."

Dean stares at his desk, his cheeks flaming and a lump in his throat.

"It's going to be ok," Sam asserts as he stacks the papers and documents neatly on the desk. "I can win this case. I'm not going to let him do this to you."

"Sammy, I just took out a loan for the expansion. If he wins, I'll lose everything."

"He won't win," Sam says simply, a determined expression on his face. "I will. Hell, we should countersue him for harassment and character defamation while we're at it. Hit _him_ for $750,000."

"No. I just want it done. We win and it's over. That's all I want."

Sam nods. "Ok." He sits back in the chair and sighs. "Look, Dean, don't get depressed over this. Don't let it stress you out. I have it covered. Get moving on the expansion, business as usual. He's probably watching you, so act as normal as possible. Crowley wants to see you upset, he wants to see you fall apart. Don't give him the satisfaction. Hell, go away this weekend. Go to New York and see Cas. Show him he's not getting to you."

"He is getting to me!"

"I know! Just don't let him see it!"

Sam shoves all the paperwork into his briefcase and stands. "Look, I gotta go. Jess has an ultrasound at six, and I've gotta get moving if I'm going to make it. I mean it Dean, don't stress. Call Cas and see if you guys can spend the weekend together. Hell, I'll even pay for the plane ticket."

"You don't have to do that," Dean says quietly as he stands.

Setting his briefcase down, Sam grabs Dean and hugs him tight.

"When are you going to learn? People in this family like doing things for you. You do everything for us. Sometimes, we want to return the favor. We love you."

Dean's cheeks heat again, and he stares at the floor as Sam chuckles softly.

"Call Cas. Make plans. Enjoy your weekend. And don't stress over this shit."

Nodding, Dean swallows hard, the lump in his throat threatening to suffocate him. Sam leaves shortly thereafter, and Dean plops back into his desk chair, staring off into space.

* * *

It's Friday afternoon and Castiel waves madly, calling Dean's name through the crowd at JFK.

His love is white-faced, his backpack tossed over his shoulder, garment bag in hand. Dean's face lights up when he sees Castiel, and he pushes determinedly through the crowd, happily throwing himself into Castiel's arms.

"I missed you," he says wearily, his voice muffled as his hides his face in Castiel's neck.

"I missed you too. Let's get you home so I can get some of this stress off of you. I know you've had a terrible week."

"Terrible doesn't even begin to scratch the surface," Dean says tiredly, as Castiel takes his hand and leads him from the airport.

A few hours later, he's fed Dean, and given him a long, sensual massage. Dean's half asleep in his arms, but his brow is still furrowed from the stress of the week.

"Baby, you've got to relax. Sam's got this situation under control."

Dean sighs. "Believe me, I'm trying to. This helps," he murmurs as he buries his face in Castiel's shoulder. Carding his fingers through Dean's hair, Castiel kisses his forehead.

"It's going to be ok."

"I hope so."

"I could pay him off you know? I could just give him the $750,000."

Dean raises his head, his eyes wide and shocked. "Cas, you don't make deals with asshats like Crowley. Besides, you really think he'd go away? He'd just ask for more. No, we have to do this the right way, beat him at his own game." He lays his head back on Castiel's shoulder.

"Ok. It was just a thought."

"I know, and I love you for offering, but it's not the right solution for this problem."

"I love you, Dean. I just want you to be happy."

"I love you too, Cas. I love you so much." He leans up and kisses him, wrapping a strong arm around Castiel's waist. "Do me a favor?" Dean whispers against Castiel's lips.

"Anything."

Dean kisses him deeply, as he slides his hand down Castiel's side. "Make me forget for a few hours?"

"Done." Castiel flips Dean onto his back, kisses him hard, and makes them _both_ forget.


	20. Nightmare

He dreams of fire, hot, consuming, unrelenting, destroying everything in it's path, and there's screams, people begging him for help, screaming his name, and he can't reach them, he can't help, the fire is everywhere.

It snakes up his arms, burns him away to nothing, reducing him to a coil of black smoke drifting endlessly amongst the scarlet flames. And through it all, the screams, the voices begging for help, for a savior, never stop, ringing in his smoky ears until he's sure his brain will explode.

A lisping voice travels through the noisy chaos, seductive in his ear, _I carved you into a new animal, _then there's another burst of pain, he's returned to his body and his hands, something is wrong with his hands, and the pain only gets worse and he's screaming, he can't stop screaming.

He's shaken awake by a white-faced Cas, blue eyes wide with worry, dim yellow light from the bedside lamp making shadows under his eyes, and Dean's gasping, trying desperately to ground himself, to shake off the nightmare.

"You were screaming," Cas says worriedly, as he reaches out to wipe a tear from Dean's cheek. "That was a bad one. Are you ok?"

Dean's very aware of how badly he's shaking and of the tears that he can't stop from flowing down his face. Cas reaches out and thumbs another off of his cheek, then pulls Dean into his arms.

"It's ok, Dean," he whispers into Dean's hair, "I'm here, and you're safe, I love you, and it's going to be ok."

He lets himself go in the shelter of Cas's arms, a sob bubbling up from deep inside. It's been a long time since he's had one this bad, the kind of nightmare that leaves him in tears, heart pounding and lungs heaving, leaves him feeling violated, with the past far too close to the surface, and not in the box he normally keeps it tightly locked in.

Dean feels Cas's arms tighten around him, and he buries his face in Cas's shoulder, desperate for the comfort the other man is offering. He can't seem to stop crying, the tears falling faster, his body shaking even more with the wrenching sobs.

"It's ok, baby, it's ok, let it out. I'm here, you're safe, it's ok," Cas murmurs over and over, his hands stroking Dean's back, holding him close.

He wants so badly to calm down, to stop sobbing like a child, but it's difficult. Cas's softly whispered words of affection help, and gradually, the sobs slow, and he finds himself drifting. He's exhausted, the nightmare having taken it's toll. Cas softly kisses his forehead, rubs his back, and cards his other hand through Dean's hair.

"It's ok. I'm here, you can go back to sleep. I'll keep you safe."

Dean wants to tell him, wants to tell Cas that nothing can keep him safe, because you can't hide from nightmares, and you can never really run from your past. But he chooses instead to take the offered comfort, and Dean lets the tiredness sweep over him and pull him under. He whispers "I love you," into Cas's shoulder.

The last thing he hears is Cas whispering "I love you, too" as he falls asleep.

* * *

Castiel doesn't fall back asleep. It's four in the morning, and he's wide awake, shaken to his very core by Dean's nightmare.

He's never heard anyone scream like that before, alternating between begging for help and crying out for someone named Andy, mixed with heartbroken whimpers of "I'm sorry". And it had been very difficult to wake him.

He lays with him, holding Dean as close as possible while he falls asleep, and after, until the aftershocks of his sobs stop shaking his body. He holds Dean until he's very deeply asleep, calm and peaceful again, face unlined and unworried.

Carefully moving Dean off of him, he crawls out of bed and gets dressed.

Downstairs, he makes a pot of coffee, then sits at the table with the mug and his laptop. Over the next few hours, he researches, looking up articles on Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder and it's effects on soldiers, signs and symptoms, facts about the war, and anything else he can think of. Castiel prints out several articles that seem to indicate that Dean definitely has the condition, and furthermore, it's likely gone untreated or he stopped getting treatment at some point.

He googles Dean Winchester and Benny Lafitte together, with the words "Afghanistan" and "Purgatory", which turns out to be a nickname for a hot zone in the Paktika Province, and comes across some information from July of 2003, and September 2005, mentions of the 1st Infantry Division out of Fort Riley, Kansas, and mentions of a disgraced unnamed Major linked directly to Dean, although it doesn't say how other than a mention that they served together, and there's nothing conclusive that links Dean or Benny to that place. Most of the searches return results about Winchester and Sons. It's all very confusing, and secretive, and he guesses he shouldn't have expected anything less from the military.

The only search that nets him any real information at all is a webpage dedicated to a Specialist Andrew Gallagher, killed in action September 2005. Dean and Benny are both listed on the page as members of Andrew's company, as Staff Sergeant Benjamin Lafitte and Sergeant Dean Winchester. No other information is given, no specific company listed, just a link back to the 1st ID's webpage.

He wonders if Andrew Gallagher is the "Andy" Dean was calling for in his dream.

Castiel rubs his tired eyes. It's after seven now, and the day outside is grey and dreary. He's no closer to finding out what happened and he doesn't even begin to know how he's going to bring this up.

Making a quick breakfast of coffee, fruit, and cinnamon raisin toast, he takes the tray back up to his room.

Dean is still out, on his belly, face half buried in the pillow, and his arms tucked underneath. He's snoring softly, mouth slightly open, and Castiel smiles at how cute he looks, almost like a little kid lying there.

Castiel is filled with a rush of affection, and he's reminded again of how much he loves him, and how much his whole world revolves around Dean now.

* * *

Dean wakes to breakfast and a smile from Cas.

The nightmare isn't mentioned, although he can tell Cas is thinking about it. He can tell he wants to bring it up and talk about it, too, but so far, he's left it alone. There's a pile of newspapers on the bed, and Cas flips through them while Dean eats. He doesn't remember feeling sleepy again, but he wakes some time later, the little spoon to Cas's big spoon, the other man's slow and even breaths hot on his neck, and his wandering hands smoothing over his hips. An hour later, they end up in the shower.

But it's off. Everything is off, the nightmare coloring their moods, hanging over them like a storm cloud.

Dean knows Cas wants to know why. He wants to know what the hell happened to Dean to cause a nightmare of that magnitude. And Dean knows he should tell him, they've shared everything else, but Dean can't bring himself to do it.

As the day goes on, they're distant, Cas's disappointment evident, and Dean's shame preventing him from relaxing.

They go out to dinner at Batali's restaurant, Babbo, with Bobby and Stephanie, and even they notice something is off.

Dean is quiet in the car, and doesn't say much to Cas at the loft either. He quietly packs up everything he won't need the next day, and moves his bags down to the front door. Cas is sitting at the table, looking at a stack of papers, and he raises his head to smile at Dean.

"Come sit with me?" he asks.

"What's up?" Here it comes, he thinks, we're finally going to do this.

"I did some research this morning," he begins, pulling a stack of papers from next to the laptop. "And I think you might have PTSD. It's a very normal condition, especially among soldiers who have seen action, and Sam said you have, so…"

Dean stands abruptly and stalks away from the table.

"Dean?"

He doesn't turn, he doesn't look at Cas. "No, Cas. I'm not doing this."

The other man sighs. "It's not a bad thing, you can get treated, find someone to talk to, and it can be managed…"

"NO!"

Cas looks taken aback, his face pale. "I'm sorry. I just wanted to help."

"It's over. It's done. I don't want to talk about this anymore."

"Dean, that nightmare was terrible. You were shaking, you were screaming, you kept calling for someone named Andy."

Dean freezes, his breath caught in his lungs.

"You're clearly not over whatever happened over there, and you need help!"

"Cas," Dean sighs as he flops into the couch, "I'm just stressed over this mess with Crowley. And sometimes stress causes me to have nightmares. I'm fine. Ok? I'm fine."

"You're not fine."

"I am. Please, can we just drop this? Please, Cas?" Dean hates the way his voice sounds, weak and begging.

Cas stands and comes over and sits on the couch, reaching out and pulling Dean into his arms, and he goes willingly. "I'm sorry. I just want to help, Dean."

"I know. But I'm fine. I swear it."

Cas sighs again, as he presses a kiss to Dean's temple.

"Ok," he says, clearly not convinced, but he lets it drop, and Dean twists his body to hide his face in Cas's shoulder, grateful to leave that subject behind.

* * *

There's a shadow over them, as they crawl into bed that night.

They don't make love, and Dean's distant, although he does curl around Castiel, laying his head on his shoulder.

Things are just as strained the next morning, and Castiel's disheartened. He'd only wanted to help, not make things worse.

Dean helps him clean up after breakfast, then heads upstairs to take a shower and finish getting his things together for the flight back.

He doesn't want Dean to go. Not like this. Not when he's managed to make him so unhappy with his apparently misguided efforts to help. Dean wanders back down the steps and slides a few last items into his backpack. Time to fix this.

Castiel moves in behind him and wraps his arms around Dean's waist.

"Hey," he says into Dean's neck, "I'm sorry. I just wanted to help. I didn't mean to upset you so badly."

Dean's shoulders slump, and he turns in Castiel's arms. "I know. And I'm sorry I was such a jerk about it."

"It's ok. Let's make the most of the rest of the afternoon." He takes Dean's hand and leads him back to the couch, and they settle down together, Castiel stretching his arm across the back cushions and Dean leaning in against him. "There's something else I've been wanting to ask you." He feels the tension return to Dean's shoulders almost immediately. "It's nothing bad, I swear. And nothing prying."

"Ok," Dean says slowly.

"So, I've been thinking, and I know we both hate being apart."

"That's the damn truth."

Castiel smiles. "So I was thinking maybe you could move in with me."

Dean sits up slowly, eyes wide. "Here?"

"Yes, here, where else?"

His expression is unreadable.

"I have plenty of room. I even have an extra parking spot for the Impala."

"Um. That's, that's really, that's a great offer, Cas, but…"

"But what?"

"Dude, my whole _life_ is in Kansas. Sam, Adam, Ben, the business. I can't just, I mean, I can't run Winchester and Sons from New York."

"So sell it."

"What?" Dean looks shocked.

"Sell it. It's stressing you out anyway, so sell it and walk away."

"And do what?"

"Whatever you want, Dean. You could go back to school, I'd pay for everything. You can do anything you want."

"I'm actually pretty happy doing what I'm doing, Cas. This thing with Crowley is just a bump in the road. It'll get better, hell, Sam's convinced he can win the case. Besides," he continues as he stands and starts pacing Castiel's living room, "What about Sam and Jess? They're going to have a baby, and I want to be around for that. And Ben? God, my son Cas, I can't just leave my son. I don't know how this could possibly work."

"People make sacrifices for the people they love."

Dean stops pacing, his brow furrows as he considers Castiel's words.

"Yeah, you're right. So tell me, Cas, besides some room in your closet and your extra parking space, what would you be sacrificing?"

"My freedom," Castiel responds flippantly, meaning it as a joke, but he regrets it the minute it's out of his mouth.

All the color drains from Dean's face, his jaw dropping.

"Oh, god, that's not what I meant, Dean, I didn't mean that."

"You think I tie you down?" Dean whispers.

"No, it's not what I meant, and I shouldn't have said it." Castiel stands and crosses the room to where Dean's standing, arms wrapped tight around his own waist, and he reaches for him, but Dean takes a step back, putting himself out of range. "Dean, please. I'm sorry, god, I'm sorry."

"I have to go."

"No, it's still five hours until your flight. Stay. We need to talk about this."

Dean's already moving towards the door, gathering his things, throwing his backpack over his shoulder.

"Dean, please don't leave. Let's talk about this, then I can drive to the airport later."

"I'll get a cab." Dean yanks the door open.

"God," Castiel says desperately, "please don't leave. Not like this, we need to talk about it." He reaches for Dean again. "Stay, I love you, please stay," Castiel babbles frantically.

"No, I, I need, I need time to think," Dean whispers brokenly, again moving out of Castiel's range. "I have to go. I have to, I need, I need time to think."

"God, please don't end us over this. I made a mistake, I shouldn't have said that. Dean, please don't go. Please."

But he's in the hallway, he's pushed the button for the elevator, and as he steps inside, he turns and looks at Castiel one last time, chin trembling, tears in his green eyes, a heartbroken expression on his face.

"I'm sorry, Cas," he whispers as the elevator doors shut, and Castiel's alone again.

He stands in the hallway, staring blankly at the elevator doors. Should he go after Dean? Would it only make things worse?

Walking slowly back into his loft, he shuts the door and leans heavily against it.

"Blew it this time, Novak," he mutters angrily to an empty room, as his vision blurs with tears.

* * *

He stands outside of Cas's building for five minutes, irritably wiping tears out his eyes, waiting for Cas to come and get him, and beg him to stay and talk, and he will, Dean just needs to know that the other man wants him to stay.

Cas never shows, and Dean dejectedly hails a cab.

He's in such a fog, he barely remembers paying the driver, and he wanders through security at JFK on autopilot, then finds a seat in the waiting area. Dean looks at his watch and sighs. It's only noon, and his flight isn't until four.

Dean spends the next few hours pacing the terminal, unsettled and restless, and so incredibly unhappy. Why didn't Cas follow him? Why did he say that in the first place? He couldn't actually expect Dean to pack everything up and move to New York? Why would he even ask him that?

Switching from heartbroken to angry and back again, the four hours before he can board drag on and on, and by the time he's finally on the plane, Dean's ready to scream. He just wants to get home, and forget this weekend ever happened.

Right before he switches his phone off, it rings, _Sexiest Chef Alive_ popping up on the caller I.D. screen, and he almost answers it. It stops ringing, and Cas doesn't leave a voice mail, so Dean shuts the phone off.

He dozes restlessly on the flight home, exhausted, and he's never been so grateful to see his little house in Lawrence.

Dean drinks himself blind that night, passing out on the kitchen floor, and doesn't get up for work the next day.

He ignores every phone call, ignores every knock on the door, and drinks himself into oblivion Monday night as well.

Sam finds him on the floor of the den Tuesday morning, concern in his hazel eyes as he helps Dean off the floor and onto the couch. He wordlessly offers Dean a large glass of water and several Tylenol, but says nothing, seemingly waiting for Dean to start talking.

Dean stays quiet, and Sam moves out to the kitchen, busying himself with making toast. Watching his little brother move around his kitchen, making him breakfast, not pushing, not demanding, Dean feels a rush of pain in his heart.

How could Cas think he could just walk away from this, from his family?

He loves Cas, loves him more than he's ever loved anyone he's been involved with, but Sammy, and Adam, and Ben, especially Ben, they were all here first.

Cas is asking more than Dean can give.

Sam sits on the coffee table, facing Dean, holding out the plate of toast.

"Thanks," Dean says quietly, sitting the plate in his lap, but not eating.

"What happened?" Sam asks gently, and the pain in Dean's chest builds.

"I blew it. I blew it, Sammy. And I think it's over. I think I broke it and it's over and I'll never…" Dean's words trail away, as the first sob breaks through, and Sam's taking the plate from him, and pulling him into his strong arms.

"It's going to be ok, Dean, it's going to be ok, I swear."

Dean shakes his head. Sam doesn't know. He doesn't know anything.

Dean's alone again. He's relationship poison, that's never going to change, and he's alone again.

He's lost the best thing that's ever happened to him. Cas didn't care enough to chase him out of the building, to stop him from leaving.

It's over.

And there's nothing Dean can do about it.


	21. Fire of Unknown Origin

It's Wednesday morning.

He's hardly eaten, he's barely slept, and he's sitting against the foot of his bed with his ass on the floor, rolling an empty bottle of Jameson's back and forth.

He tries Dean's number again. Straight to voice mail.

A bubble of anger wells up inside of him, and Castiel shoves the bottle, and it tumbles down the stairs, shattering noisily about halfway down.

Leaning his head back against the bed, he fights back the tears that have been threatening most of the morning, since he woke up on the floor with the empty bottle in his grasp. He still can't believe how thoroughly he's fucked this up. He should have gone after him. He should have wrapped his arms around Dean and held him and forced him to listen until the other man accepted his apology.

And now, Dean won't answer his phone, won't pick up long enough for Castiel to beg for forgiveness.

"And you're going to sit there and beat yourself up instead of getting your ass on the next flight to Kansas to fix whatever it is you've fucked up."

Castiel jumps as Gabe's voice sounds out in the empty loft. He hadn't even heard him come in. His brother makes his way up the stairs, gingerly avoiding the broken glass. He sits down on the floor beside Castiel.

"So what did you do?"

"Something stupid," Castiel replies with a sigh. "And how'd you know it was me?"

"Just a feeling. You asked him to move here, didn't you?"

"Yes. And before you rub it in my face, fine, you were right. I fucked up."

"Not like I'm happy about being right. So he didn't want to move?"

"No. And I said something really stupid, and he didn't give me the chance to apologize, he left. And I should have followed him. Why the hell didn't I follow him?"

Gabe sighs. "Let me ask you something. When you picture yourself happy, where are you?"

"In Kansas, with Dean." He doesn't even need to think about that.

"Then move."

"I can't."

"Bullshit. You film an entire season in four weeks, and you can stay at my place while you're doing that. I run the restaurant. You hate this loft. Move. You'll be happier there, and so will he."

Castiel sighs and drops his head. "It's probably too late. Dean probably hates me now."

"Then get your ass out there and crawl on your knees for forgiveness. Isn't it better to go out there and have him tell you no, then spend the rest of your life wondering?"

"I don't know."

"Dammit, Castiel! Will you get your head out of your ass and make this right? He loves you, anyone who sees you together can see it, and I've never seen you happier. Fucking get your ass on a fucking plane and fix this!" Gabe turns to face him and grabs Castiel's shoulders with both hands and shakes him a bit. His golden eyes are fiery, at the same time filled with a level of seriousness that he rarely sees in his older brother. "For the love of God, fix this, Cassie."

He sits and considers Gabe's words for a moment, then a tiny bubble of hope fills him. "You're right. I have to try. I love him. I can't let this, I can't let _him_ go that easy."

"Thatta boy!"

"Gabe. The restaurant though…"

"Are you shitting me? I already run it. Nothing would change, you can fly up once or twice a month to make sure things are still running smoothly, but really, it wouldn't be any different than it is now. You're done filming for the next six months, and there's nothing else you do that can't be done from Kansas. Get your ass on a plane and go!"

Castiel pulls himself to his feet and starts moving around the room, tossing a duffel and a suitcase on his bed. "You're right. I'm going dammit. I'm not letting that man get away from me. I've been waiting my whole life for someone like Dean. I'm not letting this slip away!"

"That's the spirit!" Gabriel says happily. "One suggestion though?"

Stopping dead in his tracks as he's yanking socks out of his dresser, Castiel raises an eyebrow.

"You stink. Take a shower first."

* * *

A very unhappy Dean drives to work Wednesday morning, and pulls the Impala into bay 2. She's making an odd noise, and he's going to get to the bottom of it.

He's exhausted, he's barely slept at all since getting home Sunday, except for the times he drank himself unconscious. That wasn't rest though, and he always woke up feeling worse.

Dean misses Cas more than he can even comprehend. When Bela left, he was disappointed, but some part of him was also relieved. He and Bela were never a good match. She wanted more out of life then Dean could possibly give her.

Cas is different. Or at least Dean thought he was. He thought he'd finally found the person he would spend the rest of his life with.

Part of Dean knows this is Cas's fault. But at the same time, maybe if he were different, more confident, then Cas wouldn't feel tied down by him. Maybe Cas really didn't mean that, about losing his freedom. Or maybe Dean's problems leave him feeling trapped.

Dean thoughts chase and contradict themselves, and by the end of the day, he's got a horrendous migraine, and all he wants to do is go home. He's only managed to start the work on the Impala, just removing the air cleaner, and the carb, so he's going to have to leave her in the shop overnight. He'll just take the orange '72 Chevelle he's working on for Ben's 16th birthday. It's not pretty, but it runs, and he'll finish baby tomorrow.

Adam's at the house when he gets in.

Annoyed, Dean doesn't say much, but makes them both spaghetti. This is Sam's doing. He's got Dean on something like suicide watch, and he's never allowed to be alone. Last night, Jo parked on his couch, while he didn't sleep and roamed the house after dark. Tonight it's Adam.

His head is still pounding, so Dean heads up at nine, hoping to get some sleep. He dozes for an hour or so, then lays awake staring at the ceiling.

So when the knock on the front door comes at three am, he's actually already awake, and beats Adam to the door.

There are two Lawrence police cars in front of his house, red and blue lights spinning in the darkness. He can see Benny peeking his head out of his front door across the street.

"Mr. Winchester?"

"Yes?"

"You own Winchester and Sons?"

"Yeah," Dean says warily.

"I'm sorry to tell you sir, but your building's on fire…"

Dean doesn't hear another word, just yanks the Chevelle's keys off the hook and screams out of the driveway a second later. He gets to the shop in three minutes, no idea how he even got there, and the building is fully involved, fire apparatus everywhere.

He's not aware of the fact that he's only in basketball shorts and tee, no shoes at all. He's not aware of Benny and the cops pulling in behind him.

All he can see is fire, fire everywhere, and bay 2.

A black car, Kansas tag KAZ 2Y5.

She's on fire.

His baby is burning.

"No, no, no, no," he babbles frantically.

The fire is intense. It's all he can see. There's screaming. People begging for help, screams, so many screams. He's back there. There's fire everywhere and he's back there. He can't breathe. His hands, something is wrong with his hands.

"Snap out of it, Dean! We ain't there, this ain't Purgatory! Snap out of it!"

Dean startles, and Benny's right there, his blue eyes wide and concerned.

"Sam's on his way. We don't need to stay here. I'm takin' ya home, brotha."

"Benny, my car, my car, my baby, Benny…"

"I know," Benny says sadly. "Let's get ya outta here."

Dean lets Benny lead him back to his truck. He's in a daze. In less than a week, he's lost his business, his beloved car, and Cas, the man he loves more than he can say.

He's scared what's left of his sanity is next.

* * *

Sam calls him as he's leaving for the airport, and Castiel spends the flight mentally pacing.

Dean's got to be a wreck, his business was so important to him. He didn't have much time to talk to Sam, all he knows is that Winchester and Sons practically burnt to the ground sometime early Thursday morning.

He finds the rental stand quickly, and gets his car, and makes the drive to Dean's faster than he ever has before.

Dean's driveway is full, and he recognizes most of the cars. Sam is there, of course, and Adam, and he thinks Ellen and Bobby. He leaves all of his things in the car and heads up to the front porch and meets Benny coming out.

"I oughta kick your ass right offa this porch you sonuvabitch!" Benny growls, and Castiel's terrified he's going to go through with that threat, but then Sam is there as well.

"It's ok, Benny. He came to make things right. Didn't you? That's what you said on the phone."

"Yes. I did."

"Ok. Look, he's on the back porch, and Cas, he's a mess, so go easy on him."

"I will Sam. I promise. I won't hurt him again."

Sam nods. "Also," he sighs, "the Impala burned too. He's not taking that well at all."

"Oh, no," Castiel murmurs.

"Yeah." Sam's eyes are wide and pleading. "look, man, he's barely slept, I can't get him to eat, he's a wreck. God, Cas, please help him. Please."

Castiel nods, then heads into the house. He's aware of the eyes of Dean's family on him as he passes through the living room and kitchen, but no one says anything.

Dean's sitting on the deck stairs, shoulders slumped and head bowed. Even from behind he looks completely defeated, and Castiel's heart breaks. A major part of this is his fault. He did this to Dean.

And he's going to make it right, starting now.

He sits beside him on the steps, but says nothing, and Dean doesn't look up. After a moment of sitting silently like this, Castiel lifts his arm and wraps it around Dean's shoulder and pulls him in. The other man raises his head finally, and his red-rimmed eyes widen in shock.

"Cas?" he whispers, like he can't believe he's actually there.

"Hello, Dean."

"Cas, what are, what are you doing here?"

"I came for you. I love you. I love you and I was wrong, and I want to make it right. Dean, you don't tie me down, and you're not taking my freedom. I love you. I love you so much, and I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry for everything. Please forgive me."

Dean stares at him for a moment, shock warring with misery on his face, and the misery wins as he bursts into tears. Castiel pulls him in tighter, wrapping his arms around him as firmly as he can, Dean's whole body shaking with the force of the sobs wracking his frame.

"It's ok, baby, let it out, let it out. I'm here, I'm not going anywhere, let it out." He feels Dean's arms snake around his waist, and Dean is clinging to him. He raises his hand and cards his fingers through Dean's hair. "I'm so sorry. I never should have said that. I'm so sorry Dean. God, I love you. I love you so much and I don't care where we are as long as we're together. I put my loft on the market yesterday. If you'll have me, I'll move here. I'll live here with you, Dean."

Lifting his head, Dean stares up in at Castiel in wonderment. "You'd really do that? You'd move here? For, for me?"

"I'd go anywhere for you. I love you." He reaches out and brushes several tears from Dean's cheek. "I'm yours. For as long as you'll have me."

The first small hint of a smile flits across Dean's face.

It's progress.

…

Cas makes him take a Xanax, then forces him to eat some pasta. Then he drags him up the stairs and pushes him into the shower. Afterwards, he's treated to a back massage which he passes out in the middle of.

When Dean wakes the next morning, it's only seven and Cas is still sound asleep next to him. Dean pulls himself out of bed and dresses quickly in jeans, a tee, and his boots. He's surprised to find his downstairs empty of his family. He makes a quick cup of coffee, then leaves Cas a note. Dean's pleased to find the Chevelle back in his driveway, and the keys by the door, but it hurts to slide into her driver's seat instead of his baby's.

Ten minutes later, he pulls into the parking lot of Winchester and Sons.

He pulls himself out of the car and stands there and stares. There's hardly anything left, just the brick façade. Everything is gone.

Dean gingerly picks his way through the debris spread all over the parking lot, carefully making his way into bay 2.

Most of the paint has burned off the Impala. All the glass shattered in the heat. The seats are burned away. Dean lays his hands on her hood.

"I'm sorry, baby. I'm so sorry," he murmurs sadly. Dean's not sure if he'll be able to restore her. The damage is pretty significant.

He hears clicking heels coming towards him, probably the insurance agent he was supposed to meet here to discuss the claim, but instead, he hears a clipped English accent.

"I can't believe it. I had to see it for myself. Look at you Dean. You've burnt down the family business!"

Dean's heart drops as he slowly turns.

She's as elegant as ever, in a crisp white suit and pale pink blouse, sky high heels and pearl necklace, brown hair perfectly styled and her eyes glittering.

"Bela."

"Hello, darling. Look what you've done." She smiles, and it's not a pleasant thing, and she peers around Dean's shoulder. "And, oh, what is this? You've managed to burn your precious car too?"

"Why are you here, Bela?" Dean growls. "I don't need this. At all."

"Oh, I just wanted to come revel in your misfortune. It's too funny."

"You are one evil fucking bitch. I don't know what the hell I ever saw in you."

Bela laughs. "Oh, Dean, I wonder that myself. If the rumors I'm hearing are true after all."

"What rumors?"

She laughs again. "Oh, darling. Rumor has it you've switched teams. That girls weren't working out for you anymore? Funny, though, I'm not all that surprised." She leans in closer, a smug grin on her face. "You were a lousy lay, you know. Half the time it's like you weren't even there at all."

"Whatever, Bela. If it makes you feel better to say that, then fine. Whatever you say."

"Does he know? Does he know what you did over there? Does he know about the girl, and Andy, sweet precious Andy?"

Dean freezes, breath caught in his throat.

"Has he been awoken in the middle of the night by one of your screaming nightmares? Does he know the real Dean Winchester?"

No. He doesn't. Because Dean never wants Cas to know about that guy. He turns away from Bela, staring at the blackened shell of his baby.

"Dean, darling, do you know why I left you for Gordon? Any idea?"

He doesn't answer.

"Because he's not messed up in the head. I never have to worry he's going to lose his mind, and mistake me for the Taliban and slit my throat in the middle of the night. I'm not afraid of him. I was always afraid of you. You're a monster, Dean. And you always will be."

She says some more garbage after that, but Dean doesn't hear her. His hands are shaking, and it's all he can do not to break down in the middle of the burned remains of his shop. She leaves, but he doesn't really notice, in fact the only thing he's aware of is the building pain in his chest as he stares at the Impala.

The insurance lady comes, and tells Dean that since it's arson, and he's just updated his policy, there will have to be a full investigation. She looks at Dean pointedly, and he realizes, with a quickly sinking heart, that she thinks he set the fire. That he did this.

By the time she's done, he's shaking all over.

The urge to run is overwhelming.

He forgets about Cas, forgets about everything, the only thing Dean can hear is the little voice in his head telling him to run.

And that's what he does.

* * *

_Cas,_

_Had to go to the shop to meet the insurance lady. Shouldn't be long, then I'll come back and we can make breakfast or something._

_We need to talk. _

_I love you,_

_Dean._

It's well after noon, and everyone Castiel could think to call is gathered in Dean's living room.

Dean's gone, no one has any idea where he is, and Castiel is about to lose his mind. He's not answering his cell, he's not at the shop, and Jo and Adam drove all over Lawrence. The old orange Chevelle is nowhere to be found.

"I can't believe he'd do this," Sam says quietly. "After you got here, he seemed so much better."

"Something must have happened. He was fine when we went to bed last night."

Benny's phone rings, and he steps out onto the porch to answer it.

"Cas, what happened with you guys, anyway?"

"I said something stupid, and I hurt him. We worked it out last night. Or at least I thought we did." Castiel was sure he'd gotten through to Dean, that he'd made it clear that he wanted to be with him.

Sam sighs. "Maybe he just went for a drive. He's the worst about not answering his phone sometimes."

Benny steps back into the house, his face stormy. "That was the insurance company. They're looking for Dean. I think I know why he ran."

"Why?"

"Because they think he started the fire."

"What?!"

"Oh no," Sam groans. "We just updated the insurance. Of course they'd think that. And with the lawsuit? Oh fuck."

"We need to find him," Benny says, "and soon."

There's a knock at the door, and Jo gets it. A white haired man with thick glasses is there, a briefcase in his hand.

"Where's Dean?" he bellows as he pushes past Jo.

"We don't know," Sam says, "who the hell are you?"

"Name's Frank Devereaux. Dean hired me to do security for him."

Benny snorts. "Yeah, well good job. Someone snuck in last night and torched the place."

"I know," Frank responds condescendingly. "That's why I'm here." He opens the briefcase and unloads a laptop computer. "I haven't had time to actually build a security system for him, but I did install cameras. And I have something I need to show him. Where is he?"

"Not here," Castiel says sadly. "We don't know where he is. The insurance company thinks he set the fire, and he's gone."

"Morons. Of course they think that. It's a conspiracy, the insurance companies always go for the owner. Big business never wants to help a guy out, never wants to give the payoff! It's all a twisted web, with big brother at the center, and it all traces back too…"

"Mr. Devereaux?" Sam interrupts, "You said you had something to show Dean?"

"Yeah." He powers up the laptop. "I got these two Nobel Prize winners breaking into the shop after hours." He turns the laptop and Sam, Castiel, and Benny all crowd around the screen.

Two figures in black, heads covered with black caps and their hands loaded full of gas cans and other items, force one of the garage doors open and slip inside. A few minutes later, they come out, and run from the building. It's not long after that and flames can be seen through the windows.

"You can't see their faces though," Sam says irritably.

Devereaux makes a disdainful grunt and taps a few buttons on the laptop. The feed is coming from another angle, and the two black figures grow closer and one of them turns and looks at something, and her face is fully in the camera.

"Ruby!" Sam yells, "she works for that fucker Crowley! The other one must be Meg!" Sure enough, the other figure turns to the first, and it's as Sam said. "Ruby and Meg! Sonuvabitch!"

"We need to find Dean," Castiel growls. "Now."


	22. No Time for Sergeants

_My husband gets MASSIVE THANKS for this chapter, for both the Route 66 info and the military info. There's end notes to explain the military terms._

* * *

He drove.

For hours.

Unsure of where he was going, what he was doing, and day faded into night. Still he drove.

Her voice echoed in his ears, _you're a monster, and you'll always be a monster_ on endless replay. The tape in the deck played on and on, the same songs over and over, and he didn't care.

Morning dawned, pink and orange in the review mirror, and he finally pulled over, dozing for about an hour in the driver's seat, before the screams and intense pain in his hands woke him, body covered in sweat, mouth as dry as the desert.

Dean really had no idea where he was, but he knew he was screwed. The Chevelle had started acting funny a few miles back, and now she was sputtering and wheezing. He pulled the car to the side of the road, and got out.

A few minutes later he was pretty confident he'd found the problem. Looked like a bad fuel pump. And as far as Dean could tell, he was in the middle of nowhere. He literally had zero idea where he was. The old girl wasn't going anywhere, so it looked like he was on foot.

Dejected, shoulders slumped, he picked a direction and started walking.

A few hours later, he was laying on his back under the Chevelle, doing his best to install the new pump without his regular set of tools. It was hot as hell, the temp was in the high nineties. As it turned out, he was in a small town, Holbrook, Arizona, significant for the fact it sat along old Route 66.

Apparently, even in his completely out of it and distracted mindset, he managed to take a trip he'd been wanting to make most of his life.

Not that there was anything enjoyable about this trip.

The job finally done, Dean pulled himself to his feet. Sitting in the driver's seat, he turned the key and breathed a sigh of relief when the car turned over immediately. Shifting into drive, he pointed the car westward again. He'd come this far on 66, he might as well keep going.

His stomach growled noisily, and was surprised to realize he was hungry. He hadn't eaten at all the day before. Come to think of it, he'd barely drunk anything either.

With this in mind, Dean pulled into the first diner he came to. An hour later, with a belly full of pancakes, eggs, bacon, and several tall glasses of water, a wave of total exhaustion hit him, and he knew he couldn't drive any farther without some serious rest.

Dean drove through town, looking for a place to stay, and was amused to come upon the famous Wigwam hotel, the Vacancy sign on display. He gratefully handed over his credit card, and crashed on the bed in Wigwam 1 just after 2:00 pm.

He had reached levels of exhaustion he hadn't known since the Army days. It didn't take long for Dean to pass out, unconsciousness sucking him down quickly.

Dean drifted aimlessly at first, comfortable, deeply asleep, but it wasn't long until his dreams shifted, a smoky haze in the air, flickering light of flames inching closer. In the dream, he tried to walk away from it, tried to go in the other direction.

Knowing damn well what those flames mean, he was determined to avoid them.

There's a hand on his shoulder, a lisping voice in his ear. _It's your professionalism I respect. _The shadowy form drifts around him, and the fire draws closer. _I carved you into a new animal._

He has to go. Has to get out of here.

This isn't real, it's just a dream.

Dean turns to go, but the fire is around him now, orange, yellow and scarlet dancing in his eyes. The screaming starts, faint at first but becoming so loud he cups his hands over his ears.

His hands. His hands hurt. He pulls them away from his ears and watches, alarmed, as blisters form across each finger, and his palms redden and crack.

God it hurts. It hurts so badly.

Dean's not sure when he started screaming, but as he bolts upright in his motel bed, his throat is raw, and every inch of him is covered in sweat. He's shaking, he's breathing hard, and there's more wetness on his face than just the perspiration would have provided.

Feeling disoriented, and completely broken, he reaches for his phone and switches it on. He's got several voice mails, but he doesn't listen to them. Dean scrolls through the numbers until he finds _Sexiest Chef Alive_ and pushes dial.

"_Dean?! Dean where are you?"_

He doesn't answer, his mouth moving but no words coming out.

"_Dean, we'll come and get you, just tell me where you are. Please Dean. We've been so worried, just tell me where you are!"_

"Cas. I'm, I'm sorry…"

"_Dean, it's ok, baby, just tell me where you are."_

He's in tears now, and he wants to tell him, he wants Cas to come get him, but he can't. He just can't.

"_Dean? Are you still there?"_

"I'm sorry, Cas," he whispers shakily.

"_What? Wait, Dean, don't hang up, please don't hang up! Stay with me, please…"_ and the phone dies.

Dean looks at it in surprise, but the battery must be gone, and the screen is blank.

The urge to move is overwhelming, and he gets the keys off the nightstand. A minute later, he's in the old Chevelle, and back on the highway.

His hands are still shaking.

* * *

"Dammit!" Castiel yells in frustration, throwing his phone across Dean's living room.

Sam sighed, and sunk into the couch. "He hung up?"

"Yeah. Dammit."

"What did he say?"

"I'm sorry. That's pretty much it."

"Do you think he's checked the voicemails?"

"I don't think he has. If he had, he'd know about the surveillance cams. He'd know it was safe to come home." Castiel drops onto the couch next to Sam. "He sounded so broken. And we still have no idea where to even start looking for him."

"Not true!" Charlie yells, coming into the living room, laptop in hand. She'd come as soon as she heard what was going on, and being extremely computer savvy, she and Ash had spent the last twenty-four hours monitoring Dean's credit cards, watching for a hit. "I've got two credit card transactions, one for Car Quest Auto Parts, and one for a Wigwam Motel, both in Holbrook, Arizona."

She flipped the laptop around so Castiel and Sam could see the screen, the small town of Holbrook displayed on Google Maps.

"There's also two gas station transactions, one in Shamrock, Texas, and another in Gallup, New Mexico," Ash adds, as he also comes in, iPad in hand.

Sam looks thoughtful for a moment. "Shamrock, Gallup, and Holbrook. Why does that sound so familiar?"

"Well, I'll tell you," Charlie grins, typing something on her laptop before spinning it around again. There's a Wikipedia page displayed on the screen now. "They're all towns along Route 66."

"Oh my god," Sam whispers. Castiel stares at him.

"What?"

"Route 66. He's been talking about it since we were kids. Dad and his friends drove it after graduation, before Dad left for Parris Island and the Corps. Dean's been hearing about and wanting to make that trip pretty much his whole life."

"So, we need to fly to Arizona. If we follow the Route, we should find him, right?"

"In theory," Charlie says, "provided he hasn't moved on. 66 ends at Santa Monica. You've got to beat him there, who knows where he'll go from that point."

Castiel yanks his wallet out of his pocket as he jumps to his feet. "Book me a flight to the closest airport, Charlie. Put it on this card." He hands her his AMEX. "I'm going up to get my stuff ready."

"I'm coming with you!" Sam says, also standing.

"Me, too," Benny adds, coming in from the kitchen.

"Fine. Book all of us flights, Charlie."

Less than fifteen minutes later, the three of them are out the door, Adam driving. They get to KC just in time to make it through security, and get to the gate just in time to board the flight to Las Vegas, which Charlie assured them was the best place to fly into, being just about an hour's drive from Kingman, Arizona, a city along the Route, and west of Holbrook, so if they have a very good chance of intercepting Dean somewhere between the two.

As the three of them settle into the plush first class seats, Benny sighs heavily.

"What's wrong? I mean, besides the obvious," Sam asks.

"Worried 'bout Dean. He ain't well. Hasn't been for a long time. And I shoulda said somethin' sooner. Maybe coulda avoided all this."

Sam shifts in his seat, meeting Benny's eyes. "What did happen over there? He's never talked about it. Ever."

"And he has terrible nightmares. He screams, he calls out for someone named Andy, says he's sorry over and over, and wakes up crying. Sobbing," Castiel adds.

A look of shock crosses Sam's face. "I didn't know that."

Benny nods. "He needs help. I've been tryin' to get him to go for years. But he's stubborn as a mule."

"Benny, can you tell us what happened? Please?" Castiel isn't above pleading. Whatever it takes to help Dean.

"I'll tell ya what I can. He won't be happy with me, but I think we're past that point." With another heavy sigh, Benny leans back in his seat and begins his story.

* * *

_Patika Province, Afghanistan, "Purgatory"_

_September 2005_

Staff Sergeant Benny Lafitte shuffled his feet impatiently, standing outside the Major's tent, waiting for Sergeant Dean Winchester.

The Major had ordered Dean to his quarters two hours ago, at 2200 hours, and they had a poker game planned for 2430, so he was hoping the Major would wrap it up and cut his buddy loose soon. He had $250 he wanted to win back from that punk.

"Hey, Sarge," Specialist Andy Gallagher greeted him. "Dean still in there?" he asked, indicating the Major's tent with a tilt of his head.

"Yes, Specialist, _Sergeant_ Winchester is still in there."

Gallagher gave him an easy smile. "Aw, you know I forget sometimes, Sarge."

"I know. Just get in the habit, understan'?"

"Yes, Sergeant."

Benny couldn't really blame the boy for the lapse. He and Dean had gone through basic together at Fort Benning, forging a solid friendship. They'd both been very pleased to arrive at Fort Riley and find themselves in the same company in the 4th Battalion of the 1st Infantry Division.

But, Dean had been promoted to E-5, Sergeant, over six weeks prior, and Gallagher needed to remember to address his NCO with respect now. Benny didn't really care how they talked to each other off-duty, but on-duty, protocol had to be observed.

"What do you think he wants with Dea…Sgt. Winchester?"

"I dunno," Benny replied with a sigh.

"That dude is creepy. He's not even our Commander, so why's he always climbing Sarge's tree?"

"Hell if I know Gallagher, I jus' work here."

Dean pushes his way through the tent flap a moment later, his face pale. He sees Andy and Benny standing there, and gives them a weak smile. "Hey guys."

"Hey! Ready to play poker? Sarge and I been waiting for you."

"Oh. Um. Not tonight guys. I need to sleep. I'm tired." He leaves them without another word, shoulders slumped, headed in the direction of his own tent.

"What was that all about?" Gallagher asks confusedly.

"I dunno. But I'm damn well gonna find out."

* * *

"So what the hell is goin' on with you brotha?" Benny asks, as he returns to their tent.

Dean has stripped down to his tan undershirt and boxers, and is laying on his belly on his cot. He doesn't raise his head, doesn't acknowledge Benny's presence. "I'm fine," he mumbles into the pillow.

"The hell ya are. You've been in the Major's tent three times this week, and ever'time you come back lookin' like ya dog died. What's the deal?"

Dean sighs, and rolls to face Benny. His eyes are tired.

"I was doing a special assignment for him. It's classified. That's all. I'm just tired, and I want to sleep. Ok?"

Benny frowns. "Ok, well, if ya wanna talk, ya know where I am."

The other man doesn't say anything else, just rolls back into his pillow. Benny sighs and shuts the light off.

* * *

Two days later, they're outside the fence line, on patrol, a convoy of eight Humvees and one med truck traveling in a line, desert heat radiating and making the view through the tiny windows of the armored vehicle appear shimmery and undulating.

Benny thinks of Andrea back home. God, he misses her. He'll be glad when this deployment is over. He's had enough, and his enlistment is almost up. He's not reenlisting, he's done his twenty years, and he's going home. Watching the Humvee in front of him, he wonders what Dean will be doing after this tour. He knows the other man has a son back in Kansas, about two hours from Fort Riley, part of why he pushed so hard to get orders for that particular post. From what he knows of Dean, the man's whole family is back there, except for a brother in college in California.

Dean's a great guy. He's significantly younger than Benny, but they made an almost instant connection, finding that they had a lot in common, top of the list a passion for classic cars, classic Chevys in particular. Dean had told him all about the 1967 Chevy Impala his dad had handed down on his eighteenth birthday. He'd been amused that Dean carried pictures of his baby in his wallet, right next to school pictures of his boy.

He's worried about Dean. Whatever the Major has him doing, it's definitely affecting his mood. Dean's generally a pretty easy going guy, with a quick smile, and his trademark snarky humor, but lately, he's seemed reserved, depressed even.

Benny tightens his resolve. He's going to find out what this "top secret" assignment Major Alastair's got for Dean entails.

Major Alastair is a creepy sonuvabitch anyway, with that damn lisp. Benny can think of a couple of times he's wanted to knock the man's jaw off.

Benny is still reflecting on all the ways he'd like to mess that ass up when the road explodes in front of him.

To his horror, he sees Dean's body go flying across the road, a wall of flames rising up from the Humvee. His driver screams a loud curse as he does his best to maneuver the vehicle away from the flames without crashing into the three Humvees behind them.

Benny jumps from the moving vehicle, running to where he saw Dean land. His friend is sprawled on his back in the dirt, breathing but not moving.

"Dean. Dean wake up. C'mon brotha, wake up!" He can hear the ratt-tatta of automatic weapons fire from somewhere nearby. "Dean!"

There's a scream from somewhere behind him, and Benny whirls to find the Humvee Dean was thrown from on it's side, and it's on fire, flames shooting up the roof.

In the few seconds he was turned away, and staring at the flaming Humvee, Dean regained consciousness, and ran for the damaged vehicle, ignoring the flames and climbing on top, and he's now crouched down, desperately trying to open the door.

"Andy! Andy hang on! Andy! ANDY!" Dean is yanking on the door, and the flames are sweeping up around them, and Benny can barely see him through the smoke.

"Dean! You gotta get down! DEAN! DAMMIT WINCHESTER!" A bullet chings off one of the Humvee's fenders, and Benny raises his M4 and fires in the general direction of the weapon sounds. The other members of the convoy are springing into action, the Humvees fanning out in a herringbone pattern, the other soldiers firing back into the incoming firefight, and Benny knows he's got to get Dean off that Humvee or he's going to burn with the guys in it, if he doesn't end up taking a bullet first.

He sprints around to the other side of the downed vehicle, using the exposed undercarriage to climb on top. Dean is on his knees, beating futilely against the door, crying Andy's name over and over, but there is no sound, no knocking against the door, no more screams from inside. Benny knows everyone in that Humvee is gone, he can see flames against the glass on the inside of the doors.

"Dean, ya gotta get down brotha! Ya gonna get hurt!"

Dean doesn't respond, just keeps yanking on the door. Benny can see how red his hands are, and realizes he's burned. He's got to get Dean off the Humvee now.

The med truck pulls up behind them, as Benny reaches up and grabs Dean's leg. "Come on! We gotta get out of here."

With an actual growl, Dean yanks his leg out of Benny's grasp. "Dammit kid!" He climbs the rest of the way onto the burning Humvee, and wraps his arms around Dean's waist. "It's time to go! We gotta take cover dammit!"

"I have to get Andy! I have to get him out! I have to! Benny let me go, let me go!" Dean fights like a wildcat, but Benny swings him around, carefully dropping him off the side of the vehicle and hopping down after him. Dean hits him the minute he lands, a solid right hook to his jaw, still trying to get back on the Humvee.

"Dammit, Dean! There's nothing you can do! Dean!" The other man is still fighting him, out of his mind with grief and pain, and without warning, he goes limp in Benny's arms, eyes rolling back in his head, and for a terrible moment, Benny thinks he's been shot, and he passes his hand over the back of Dean's head, quickly finding the sluggishly bleeding lump. He must have gotten that when he was thrown from the Humvee.

Benny can hear the sound of approaching helicopters, Apaches, and he hoists Dean over his shoulder, getting him into the med truck without too much effort.

Once the Apaches swoop into view, it doesn't take long to control the scene. Another unit comes in to help them, and they limp back to the FOB.

* * *

Benny doesn't see Dean again until the next day.

His friend is sitting on a cot in the med tent, a bandage wrapped around his head, and both of his hands wrapped in thick, white bandages.

"Hear you're leavin' us kiddo. First Class medflight to Landstuhl."

Dean doesn't answer, just keeps staring into space. Benny sighs, dropping wearily onto a stool near Dean's bed.

"Dean, I'm sorry, brotha. I'm damn sorry."

"It's my fault," Dean says softly.

"No it isn't. We were ambushed. That's not anyone's fault 'cept the damn Al Qaeda that set us up!"

"It was retaliation," he murmurs brokenly. "It's all my fault."

"What are you talkin' 'bout kid?"

Dean closes his eyes, and looks away from Benny. "Major Alastair. The nights in his tent. He's had me interrogating prisoners. Illegal stuff. God, Benny, I was just following orders. I was just following orders. But I should have said no. And the girl, oh my god, Benny, the other night. It was girl, a fifteen year old girl, and oh god, Benny what I have done?" Dean's babbling, tears rolling down his cheeks.

"You gotta report this Dean. That's an unlawful order!"

"He kept telling me I'd go down with him. That he'd make sure you got hurt, and that Andy got hurt. And I was so scared. I was scared of him. God, I'm a giant pussy! And now Andy's gone, oh my god, Benny, what have I done? What have I done?"

"That creepy ass sonuvabitch did this! You have to report it Dean! Don't let him get away with this!"

Dean just shakes his head, tears flowing down his cheeks faster, and a nurse comes over with a syringe. "Sgt. Winchester, you've got to calm down." She puts the needle in his IV, and Dean's eyes quickly grow droopy, and a moment later he's out.

* * *

"I went to our Commander right after that conversation and told him ever'thin' Dean told me. There was a full investigation and that sonuvabitch was stripped of his rank and sent to Leavenworth. Dean got better, physically at least, and his enlistment ended around the same time my retirement went through. I followed him to Kansas. He's my friend, and I knew he needed someone around that knew what he'd been through. Damn stubborn bastard refused to get any counselin' or anythin'."

Sam is quiet, and Castiel feels like he's been stabbed in the gut. He had no idea that Dean had been through anything that serious.

"Don't they notify the family when there's an injury? I never heard about any of this," Sam asks quietly.

"They did. They got in touch with your Dad and Dean made him swear he wouldn't tell anyone else, but especially you. He wanted you to concentrate on school and not worry about him."

"Dammit. That's Dean, alright. Always looking out for everyone but himself."

"Yup. And the fire the other night…it's like I was watching him check out right in front of me. He was staring at the building, watching his car burn, but I know he was seeing that damn Humvee. I know he was seeing Andy."

"And he's never stopped blaming himself, has he?" Castiel asks.

"No. It will always be his fault in his mind."

The three men are silent for a long time, each lost to their own thoughts. They land not long after that, and rent a car. It takes them almost six hours to get to Holbrook via Route 66, all of them keeping their eyes peeled for the orange and grey primer Chevelle.

They reach the Wigwam motel just after four in the morning.

No orange Chevelle.

"Dammit!" Sam says, as he exits the lobby. "He checked in around two yesterday afternoon, then turned around and checked out at five! He's long gone, we probably passed him somewhere!"

Castiel sighs, running a hand through his hair. "Now what?"

"We push on. We get to Santa Monica before he does, we call Charlie and see if he's used his card again."

"You're right, Benny," Castiel agrees, already pulling his phone out to call Charlie.

Sam is staring off into the distance, and Castiel can see the fear in his eyes. He understands it.

He's feeling it too.

They have to find Dean.

* * *

2000 hours - 8:00 p.m. / 2230 - 10:30 p.m.

NCO - Non Commissioned Officer, E-5 and above. (Andy is a specialist, junior enlisted, Dean is an E-5, which puts him in a position of authority over junior enlisted)

M4 - A carbine rifle, same as an M16 basically, but shorter and more lightweight.

FOB - Forward Operating Base, i.e. home base in the hot zone.

Leavenworth (Fort Leavenworth, KS) Military prison

Landstuhl – Military Hospital in Germany

Feel free to ask me to clarify any other military terms.


	23. Throw Me a Line

"_Last credit card transaction was Kingman, Arizona, at a gas station. You guys must have passed him."_

Castiel sighs, and runs a hand through his hair. "Thank you Charlie. I'm sorry I woke you."

"_It's ok, I'll keep looking. He means a lot to me, too, you know?"_

"He means a lot to all of us. Call me if you find anything else."

"_Totally."_

Disconnecting the call, Castiel looks over at his traveling companions. Benny is leaning against the rental car, rubbing tired eyes. Sam is pacing the parking lot of the motel, looking like he's about to blast off. Castiel sighs.

"Looks like we're on to Kingman. I'm not tired, I can drive for a while." Benny nods and climbs into the back seat, and Sam sighs wearily. Castiel pats his back reassuringly. "We'll find him, Sam. We will."

"What if we don't? What if," Sam's voice drops to a whisper, "what if he hurts himself?"

"No. He wants to be found. Dean's not stupid, he has to know we'd track his credit cards."

"He's not in his right mind, Cas. You have to understand. There is no one, _no one_, in this world that hates Dean Winchester more than Dean Winchester. He just doesn't understand. He doesn't understand how many people love him. The thing about Dean is, he's the center of our whole family. He's the one that throws the get-togethers, he's the one that makes sure everyone has a birthday cake, his house is the center of everything. Dean is the absolute heart of our family. And now that I know, God, now that I know what he's been carrying around for the last eight years." Sam rubs a hand over his face, "I understand. I understand why things hit him harder, and why he tries so hard to make everyone around him happy. He thinks he's got a debt or something, like he owes the world something."

Castiel watches Sam stalk a circle around the rental Ford.

"Eight years and this has been eating at him. I don't know how he's still standing. So what if that's it? What if this trip is his last big party before he ends it?"

"Stop it! Don't borrow trouble, Sam. We can't do this to ourselves, we have to stay strong and focused and we have to find him. Get in the damn car."

Sam looks at Castiel, a broken expression on his face and his big eyes full of tears. "I'm scared. I'm scared Cas. That's my big brother out there. I'm scared."

"I know, Sam. I am too. But we need to go, we've got to cut him off before he gets to Santa Monica."

Running a hand through his hair, Sam nods woodenly and finally gets in the passenger side of the car. Taking a deep breath, Castiel takes a moment to center himself, looking up at a inky sky full of stars.

"If you're listening, then please, God, let us find him. Please."

A moment later, the black Ford rolls back onto the highway.

* * *

The ground shakes underneath the Humvee and he's flying through the air.

Benny is screaming his name, there's another explosion, and he can hear the sound of automatic weapons. The sound is distinct, Dean thinks it's an AK-47. His eyes blink open, and the first thing he sees is fire.

There's a scream, he hears Andy screaming, and Dean yanks himself to his feet, dashing across the road to the downed Humvee. He can hear Benny screaming behind him, but Dean pays no attention to his warnings. The Humvee is on it's side and he grabs the brush guard on the front end, pulling himself up onto the hood, quickly moving to the doors.

The driver is dead, and he can see through the windows that the man was partially decapitated. PFC Morrison, a friend.

He can't think about that now.

Andy is screaming, pounding his fists against the rear driver's side door. Dean can see the flames inside the cab, and they're inching towards his friend at an alarming rate. Moving into a crouch, Dean wraps both hands around the door handle and pulls with everything in him.

The door won't move. It's jammed, and as Andy's screams become weaker and weaker, Dean's panic builds, and he keeps pulling, even though the heat has reached the door handle and his hands are burning.

Andy puts his hand flat against the glass, his eyes on Dean's.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," Dean whispers, putting his hand against Andy's, his vision blurred. He watches as the flames cover his friend, watches as his friend dies screaming, but he still keeps pulling on that door handle.

Another mighty boom shakes the Earth, and thousands of miles away from Purgatory, Dean wakes up sweating and shaking on the driver's seat of the old Chevelle.

He sits up, disoriented, and another massive boom shakes the car. There are vibrations running all through the metal body of the car, he can feel them in his bones. Panic sets in quickly, Dean trying desperately to get out of the car, as yet another powerful boom shockwaves through the Chevelle.

The sound of approaching helicopters sends another rush of panic through his veins, and Dean dives out of the open passenger window, tucking and rolling as he hits the ground, years of training turning to instinct as another shuddering blast rocks the sandy dirt underneath him.

He turns his eyes to the sky, as five Apache helicopters swoop over him, and one launches a missile, orange flame flaring out behind it. Several seconds later, another blast shakes the ground.

Dean takes in his surroundings. He's near a railroad siding, train cars filled with M1 Abrams tanks in an orderly line.

"Not…not Afghanistan," he murmurs.

The Apaches continue moving overhead, swooping in and out and dropping more ordnance. Every boom makes him jump. He needs to get out of this place, it looks way too much like Purgatory. He's literally in the middle of nowhere, he drove better than eight hours after checking out of the motel, and he's been sitting here trying to sleep for god knows how long. Dean's got to get back on the road and go.

An hour and half later, he passes a sign for the National Training Center, and the Apaches suddenly make sense. NTC is where soldiers are sent to train for tours in Iraq. And he would know. Which means that place a ways back in the other direction? 29 Palms, a Marine Corps base.

Dean suddenly feels a tiny bit less crazy, and a lot more tired. There's a Motel 6 up ahead, and he knows he has to sleep. He's exhausted and if he drives any further like this, he's going to fall asleep behind the wheel. Despite not caring what happens to him anymore, he knows if he hits someone in a modern car with the behemoth the Chevelle is, he'll likely seriously injure them, or worse, kill someone.

Twenty minutes later, he's checked in, and collapsed on the bed.

It doesn't take long for sleep to find him.

* * *

"_I got another hit!"_ Charlie burbles excitedly. _"Ten minutes ago, he checked into a Motel 6 in Barstow, California!" _

"Sam, hand me the map!"

Sam startles awake, and passes the mess of paper over. "Whas goin' on?" he asks sleepily.

"Dean's in Barstow," Benny tells him.

"California? He's in California already? Where the hell are we?"

"It's just after nine in the morning. Cas had to stop in Flagstaff, for food and coffee. We was just getting back on the road when Charlie called."

"Charlie, this map makes no sense to me. How far am I from Barstow?"

"_About five hours. I'm sending directions to Sam's phone."_

"Ok, thank you. Let me know if he charges anything else."

"_You got it!" _

Castiel disconnects the call.

"Barstow. Been ther', done tha'," Benny drawls from the back seat.

"What's in Barstow?" Sam asks as Castiel pulls the Ford back onto the highway.

"NTC. Miserable place they made us play war games at before goin' to Iraq."

"If he's in Barstow, I'm hopping on Route 40. We'll get there faster," Castiel says determinedly.

"You still ok to drive, man? I slept, Benny slept, we could take over."

"I'm fine. I won't be able to sleep until we find him."

"Ok," Sam acquiesces, leaning his head back on the seat. "Wake me up if you get tired though, ok?"

Castiel nods, eyes focused on the road.

* * *

Three hours.

That's it.

Dean wakes up shaking, sweating, throat raw from screaming.

It's just after noon, and he's wide awake. He sits up in the bed, scrubs a hand across his face.

He's exhausted, more exhausted than he's ever been in his life. He knows he desperately needs sleep, he needs to rest, but he also knows he's up now. Might as well get back on the road.

Sliding into the Chevelle's seat, he has an overwhelming urge to call Cas, but he doesn't know what he did with his phone. He thinks he might have left in Holbrook. It's not like he had any way of charging the dead battery. He doesn't know what day it is, or how long he's been gone.

There's an inexplicable need to get to Santa Monica. He doesn't know why, except maybe because it's the true end of 66, although he's been so distracted, so out of it, that he hasn't been true to the Route.

It takes him about five hours to get to the beach, traffic in Hollywood is insane. He sees an In-N-Out Burger, and gets himself a Double Meat, Animal-style. Dean drives out to the famous Santa Monica Pier, pleased to find a close spot. Eating his burger quickly, but not really tasting it, Dean pulls himself from the car and starts walking.

He ends up on the beach, surprisingly empty as hot as it is. He thinks it's about 6:30, he lost his watch somewhere along the way. People keep throwing him looks, like he's someone to be afraid of, and he doesn't understand why.

Dean walks pretty far up the beach, finds a place in the sand and flops down.

He's tired. He's so incredibly tired.

It hurts in his very bones, the level of exhaustion he's reached.

Now that he's here, he doesn't know what to do. Dean pulls his knees up to his chest, wraps his arms around them and lays his head on his crossed arms.

He's so tired.

* * *

"He wasn't in Barstow, clerk at the motel said he checked out around noon."

"_Then just keep driving. Far as Charlie and I can tell, you can make it to Santa Monica in about three hours on the highway if you book it." _

Castiel can hear the sounds of computer keys clacking in the background as Ash plots their route.

"_Take I-15, it will take you in and I'll text Sam complete directions. Charlie and I say just go for it, maybe you can beat him there, but I wouldn't stop anymore, I'd just move it."_

"Sounds good. Send the directions. Thanks, Ash."

"_No prob man, just go get my boss, k?"_

"You got it."

Castiel disconnects the call and floors the Ford, pulling onto I-15.

"We're not going to make it," Sam murmurs.

"Yes we are. We have to."

Sam says nothing further, and Castiel concentrates on driving. Charlie texts Sam that Dean made a purchase at a burger joint in Santa Monica, on South Bradley Road.

It's after nine when they finally get to Santa Monica, and Sam has a gut feeling, so they drive right to the pier.

There's an old orange Chevelle parked in one of the spots near the amusement park entrance and Castiel's heart flies into his throat. He pulls into the one empty spot next to it, and he, Benny, and Sam tumble out of the car.

The three of them circle the Chevelle, searching for clues. It's unlocked, the keys still in the ignition. Sam runs a hand through his hair and looks around the pier, hazel eyes searching through the crowd.

"He could be anywhere. Oh my god, and the keys, he left the keys in the car. Cas, what do we do?"

"I'll stay here, in case he comes back to the car. Cas, you go one way, Sam, you go the other, text when you find him."

Benny's plan is solid, and Castiel takes the left side of the pier, Sam the right.

Walking the length of the pier, checking around every ride, game and shop, Castiel searches every face in the crowd, but Dean's nowhere to be found. Putting his hands on the rail of the pier, Castiel takes several deep breaths, trying to calm the frantic racing of his heart. He pulls out his phone, but there are no new texts. He's heartsick, and terrified. What if Sam was right, what if Dean hurt himself, what if he never sees him again, what if…

Out on the beach, in the dark, there is just the faintest of light from nearby streetlights making pale circles on the sand. And about a quarter mile from where Castiel is currently standing at the rail is a desolate figure, sitting on the beach, staring out at the water, and he knows, _he knows_, that's Dean.

He's found him. He's found his love.

* * *

Dean shivers slightly as the temperature drops after the sun goes down. He's been sitting on the beach for hours. He's lonely, and so very tired. He's here, and he doesn't know what to do, and he'd give anything to be at home with Cas.

Dropping his head back onto his knees, he feels the first tear slip down his cheek.

He feels the sand shift slightly, like someone walked right in front of him, then there are hands on his shoulders. Surprised, he raises his head, and looks right into a set of bright blue eyes.

"Cas?" he whispers raggedly.

"Oh baby," Cas murmurs, "what have you done to yourself?"

All Dean can do is stare as Cas sweeps his hands over him, through his hair, finally stopping to cup Dean's chin in his hand.

"I've been so worried. We've been on the road for days, I was so scared we weren't going to catch you in time."

"We?" Dean asks, voice rough and raspy.

"Yes. Benny and Sam are here too. They'll probably be down here with us in a moment." Cas is kneeling in front of him, studying him very closely. "When's the last time you ate, or slept? You made it here from Lawrence in an insanely fast amount of time."

"Had a burger about an hour…" Dean looks at the now dark sky and realizes he has no idea what time it is, "…I don't know when I ate last. And I can't sleep." Dean ducks his head again.

"Hey," Cas cups his chin again and lifts his head, "don't you hide from me. We're going to take you out of here, get you a hot meal, a shower, and a comfy bed, and then, when you're rested, we are going to have a long, long talk."

Dean nods woodenly.

"Did you check your voice mails?"

"Lost my phone. Battery was dead anyway."

Cas sighs. "Then you didn't get the message. Dean, Frank Devereaux, the guy you hired for security? He got footage from the night the building burned. He has very clear pictures of those two girls that work for Crowley setting fire to the building. They've already been arrested, and while there'll still be an investigation, the insurance company isn't holding you responsible anymore."

Dean's eyes widen.

"And after the girls got arrested, Crowley dropped his lawsuit. You're in the clear, Dean. Everything's going to be fine."

"DEAN!" Sam's voice carries across the beach, Benny right behind him, then his big little brother is practically scooping him into his arms. "Oh god, I was so worried, I was so worried! Are you ok, tell me you're ok! You're ok? Right?"

Dean can't help but smile at Sam's wide tear filled eyes. "I'm alright, Sammy. I'm sorry I scared you."

Sam is still babbling, "been so damn worried, we couldn't find you, then Charlie found a credit card transaction and Benny told us everything about Purgatory…"

"What?" Dean's blood runs cold. "Benny?"

Benny looks slightly chastised. "I had to brotha. Ya need help."

Dean wants to protest, but he's so exhausted, all he can do is nod. Besides, deep down he knows Benny is right.

"Let's get you out of here," Cas murmurs softly, and he lets them pull him to his feet.

If he's being honest with himself, he's glad.

He's glad they found him.

* * *

Castiel calls Charlie as they lead Dean away from the beach and tells her to spread the good news.

He has her book a suite in the nearby Loews hotel for two nights. Then he, Sam, and Benny load Dean into the Ford, Benny taking the Chevelle.

Dean is a mess. His eyes are red-rimmed, underlined by deep shadows. He doesn't smell very good, he clearly hasn't showered or changed his clothes since he left Lawrence a little less than three days earlier. There's a thick growth of beard on his face, and his eyes are darting, nervous. His whole body language is twitchy.

They lead him quickly through the hotel, Sam and Benny carrying their bags while Castiel quickly checks them in. His celebrity status helps, the front desk is very efficient even though the desk clerk keeps shooting sidelong glances at Dean, who very much resembles a homeless person.

Upstairs in the beautifully appointed room, Castiel gently pushes Dean in the direction of the master bedroom.

"Sam, my card is on file, call room service, get whatever you guys want. I'm going to get Dean cleaned up and put to bed. I'll see you in the morning, ok?" Sam and Benny both nod, and Castiel grabs his bags and follows Dean to the bedroom.

Dean is standing at the wide window, staring out into the street below. The rides on the pier glitter in the near distance. Dean's shoulders are slumped. He looks so tired.

"Let's get you in the shower," Castiel says quietly, reaching for Dean's hand. The other man allows him to lead him to the bathroom and strip away his filthy clothes.

He's very quiet while Castiel helps him get cleaned up, and says nothing when Castiel pulls his white Stones tee and a pair of clean boxers from his bag.

"I didn't figure you'd have brought any clothes, so I brought stuff for you."

Dean nods, and Castiel helps him get dressed.

"Are you hungry?"

Dean shakes his head no. "Tired," he whispers.

"Then let's get you in bed. I'm pretty tired, too."

A moment later and they're laying side by side in the dark on the soft mattress, crisp sheets covering them both. Castiel wants nothing more than to pull Dean into his arms and hold him until the end of time, possibly longer, but he's also aware of how skittish he is.

There's a slightly wet sniffle near him.

"Dean? Are you ok?"

"No," he whimpers slightly. "Cas? I know I sound like a big girl, but can you just, can you please…"

"Anything, Dean, anything."

Another sniffle. "Hold me. Please Cas, can you just hold me?"

"Oh Dean," Castiel turns in the bed and reaches for him, "anytime. I love you, Dean. I will never stop loving you. Ever."

Dean lets out a muffled sob as he rolls into Castiel's body, instantly hiding his face in Castiel's shoulder. He's sobbing now, holding on as tight as he can, and Castiel wraps his arms even tighter around him.

"I'm never letting you go again. I love you."

He falls asleep like this eventually, once Dean's sobs have faded, and the other man has dropped off to sleep, but he doesn't let Dean go, not for a second.

He'll never let him go again.

* * *

PFC - Private First Class.

Again, monster thanks to the Spouse for the military and Route 66 info.


	24. Worth It

Castiel wakes slowly, soft light filtering through the curtains, pleasantly aware of a warm, snuggly octopus wrapped around him.

Dean is laying on his side, arm tossed over Castiel's waist, legs entangled with his own. His face is buried in Castiel's shoulder, soft breath warm against his neck. He's peaceful and deeply asleep, and Castiel feels like a bastard for moving him, but he's got to use the bathroom.

When he comes back, Dean has rolled onto his belly, face half in the pillow. Castiel pulls the blankets over him, takes a minute to watch his lover dream, sweeping a hand through his hair and cupping his cheek. He pulls on a pair of sweats and moves out to the main living area of the suite, surprised to find Sam up already, typing away on his laptop.

"Morning," he says pleasantly, and Sam smiles at him.

"Morning." Sam nods towards the bedroom door. "How is he?"

"Sleeping. He looked very peaceful."

"That's good. No nightmares?"

Castiel shakes his head. "I think he started to have one last night, but I woke him before it went very far. Dean went back to sleep quickly. Benny still sleeping?"

"No, he left about an hour ago, said he'd drive the Chevelle back to Kansas. He figured he should back off and let you and me talk to Dean. I tried to convince him to stay. Damn stubborn Cajun."

"He didn't have to leave."

"I know, I told him. I think he just thinks Dean needs to be with us right now, and maybe he's right. I hope we can get him to talk."

Castiel pulls out the room service menu. "Are you hungry?"

"Yes."

He calls in an order for pastries, fresh fruit and coffee, then tells Sam he's going to shower. Dean is still on his belly, still blissfully unaware, but he's sitting up in bed when Castiel finishes his shower. He looks slightly disoriented, hair sleep-mussed, thick reddish beard on his face.

"Good morning."

"Hey, Cas," Dean says quietly.

"Are you hungry?"

Dean nods.

"There's food in the other room, and coffee."

"Coffee sounds great. Give me a minute?"

"Of course. Your clothes are in the closet. Come out when you're ready."

Dean nods, and Castiel leaves the bedroom, pulling the door shut behind him.

In the dining area, he helps himself to a bowl of strawberries and a pastry, and a cup of coffee. Sam is still working on his laptop, nimble fingers typing away while he sips his own cup of java.

"Work crap," he says in explanation, and Castiel nods. "Lawyering business doesn't stop just 'cause the boss is having a family crisis."

Castiel chuckles. "Dean's up. He said he'd be out in a minute."

Sam nods, types something else on his laptop, then closes it. "Then lawyer time is over," he states firmly, helping himself to a pastry. "Annoying little brother time commencing," he grins with a wink.

The bedroom door opens, and Dean enters the room. He's got on a pair of old jeans and the Stones tee Cas gave him the night before. His hair is still messy, and he stands in the doorway of the bedroom, still looking very unsure. Castiel waves an arm, gesturing to the spread on the table.

"Come have something to eat, my love."

Dean blushes slightly, then smiles weakly at Sam. "Hey, Sammy."

"Good morning. Come eat, man, you've got that starved look on your face." Sam reaches over and pulls out a chair. "Sit."

He sits, and takes the mug of coffee Castiel pours him, but makes no move towards the food. Castiel gets a plate and loads it with goodies, then hands it to Dean. He takes it, but doesn't touch the food on it.

"Where's Benny?"

"He left this morning. He's driving the Chevelle back. You, Sam, and I will fly home tomorrow."

"Ok." Dean's staring at the table, shoulders slumped. "I guess you want an explanation."

"When you're ready, Dean. Cas and I aren't going to push."

"It was the fire," Dean begins. "The fire started all of this."

* * *

Dean stares into his coffee cup, wishing he could find a way out of this conversation. But he's been holding this in for too long, and he's finally realized that the only way he's ever going to move past this is to talk about it. He's a big believer in yanking the Band-Aid off all at once, so here goes nothing.

"I don't know if you know this, Sammy, but when we were little, and our first house burned to the ground, I saw it. I saw Mom." And he'll never forget that for as long as he lives.

"Dad never told me that." Sam looks pained.

"I don't think he knew. He was more worried about me getting you out of the house. So yeah, never been a big fan of fire. Then Andy…when I saw the Impala burning, it's like I was back there, it's like…oh god…" Dean trails off, his words trapped in his throat. This is far harder than he ever expected it to be. All he has to do is close his eyes and he can see Andy through the windows of the Humvee, face twisted in unbelievable agony as he burned to death. He's spent eight years pushing this away, pretending it didn't happen, and now, all he has to do is close his eyes.

He must have checked out for a moment, because when he's aware of things again, Cas is kneeling at his feet, both of his hands wrapped around Dean's, and Sam has pulled closer and has his big hand on his shoulder.

"I know it's hard to talk about this, but I really think it would be good for you. You've been carrying this around on your own for so long, Dean. Let us help you bear the load." Cas's eyes are intent and sincere, the weight of Sam's hand on his shoulder reassuring.

"The things I did," he whispers, "I killed Andy, Cas, I as good as killed him. Why did I get to live? Why me?"

"Things happen for a reason, Dean," Sam murmurs.

That's not good enough for Dean, and he jumps out of the chair. "What reason? That bomb was meant for me! It was revenge, for the torture, for the girl! Al Qaeda even recorded a message taking responsibility for it, made it clear that the IED was meant to kill me! Me! And out of five fucking guys in that goddamn Humvee, I'm the only one that lived? Why? Goddammit, I want to know why!" He doesn't even realize that he's crying again until Cas is standing right in front of him, thumbing tears off of Dean's cheeks. Then Sam is right behind him, and he's caught in the middle of three-way hug that seems so absurd, he can't help but break into hysterical laughter.

Cas is pulling him to the couch, Sam following close behind, and he lets them drag him down between them. He's sobbing now, again, and goddammit he's fucking tired of this. He's tired of crying and falling apart like some pathetic teenage girl, but he can't seem to help it.

"It's not your fault, Dean, it's not your fault," Cas is whispering in his ear, but Dean knows the truth. He's restless and he can't sit still, and he bounds off the couch and starts pacing the room.

"Dean, Benny told us about the Major. It's his fault, you were just…"

"Following orders, Sam? I was just doing what I was told like a good little soldier? It was an unlawful order! I could have gone to anyone and told them what was happening and put a stop to it!"

"Benny said he threatened you," Cas interjects.

"Later, yeah, he did. But not at first." Dean stalks to the glass doors. He stares out over the balcony, looking at the pier and the ocean beyond. "At first, I was fine with it. They were bringing me terrorists. The first guy was believed to have blown up a bus full of school children. The next guy planted IEDs. Hell, I had no problem torturing them, fuck, I enjoyed it! Felt good, like I was able to buy a little payback for some of the guys those bastards killed. I fucking enjoyed it. I got off on it." Dean whirls on Cas and Sam, taking in their shocked expressions. "So there you go. Now you know how fucked up I really am. Still think it's not my fault?"

Neither one of them says anything, and Dean turns away again. "Next it was an old man. I asked the Major, what could this old man have possibly done? He was just a feeble old guy, half blind, couldn't barely hold his own head up. I didn't want to do it. I told him no, that it wasn't right. Do it, he told me, or your friends might find themselves on the wrong end of an IED someday." Dean lets out a heavy sigh. "So I did it. And I tortured the man after him. And the girl. My god, the girl."

He can't look at Sam and Cas, he can't see their faces and the horrified expressions that are undoubtedly there. "Major Alastair used to like to tell me he 'carved me into a new animal'," he spits bitterly, "that he'd made me hard like him. He used to tell me if he went down, I was going with him, and he was always threatening Andy and Benny. So I did what he told me." Dean scrubs a hand over his face. "Still wanna be with me Cas? Still proud to call me your big brother Sammy? Bela was right, I'm a monster and I'll always be a monster."

Sinking wearily into the closest chair, Dean drops his face into his hands.

The room is totally silent, and he jumps when Sam speaks right next to him. "When did you see Bela?"

"The other morning. She wanted to see my failure in all it's burnt out glory."

"And she told you were a monster?"

"Yeah. She said that's why she left me for Gordon."

There are hands on him, Sam's and Cas's, and they're pulling him out of the chair and back towards the couch.

"You don't really believe that, do you?" Cas asks incredulously.

"It's true."

Sam swears under his breath. "No it's not. Goddamn it, if I ever see her again…"

"Dean. Dean look at me, please."

He doesn't want to, but Dean lifts his head to meet Cas's eyes.

"No one thinks you're a monster. We love you. Shit happens, and you were manipulated by that man. You didn't kill Andy, and you can't keep carrying this with you. You have to let it go."

"I don't know how to let it go!" Dean yells, anger wiping away the sadness. "How the fuck do I let it go that I got my best friend killed? How the fuck do I let that go? HOW DO I LET IT GO?!" He doesn't even realize he's screaming, doesn't realize how bad he's shaking, doesn't feel the tears streaming down his face, all he can see is Cas, and he's silently begging him to fix this, god, somebody fix this.

Cas pulls him in, holds him as close as he can, and Sam's there, he can feel his hand on his back.

"Let it out, Dean," Cas is whispering into his hair. "Let it all out, let it go."

Dean feels something break deep inside him, and the tears come faster, he's sobbing, he's gasping for air, and it hurts _so damn bad_.

"It's ok, Dean. Let it out," Sam says, and Dean can hear the choked sound in his brother's voice. Sam's crying too.

Dean's knees buckle, and he collapses on the floor in front of the couch, Cas going down with him, holding Dean tightly in his arms, and Sam's right there at his back, they're both holding him, and Dean just sobs. It's all he can do, it's all he know how to do.

Time slips away, and all he knows is pain, eight years of hell that he's been holding in, and it's falling out of him now, his guts spilled on the floor around him.

* * *

Sam and Castiel hold Dean tight while he cries, finally letting out years of pain buried and carried alone. It's brutal, and Castiel aches for him, but at the same time, he's glad. He's glad Dean is finally letting this out.

When it's over, and Dean's sobs have been reduced to sniffles, Castiel gets him to his feet, and drags him to the bedroom for a shower. He helps him get dressed after. Dean seems so fragile to him, so easily broken.

But at the same time, there's something different in his eyes that wasn't there before. Castiel can't put his finger on it, but it's almost a lightness, like Dean's finally starting to forgive himself.

He's sitting on the bed, pulling socks on, when he quietly speaks, his voice ragged from the sobbing. "I need help, Cas. Real help. The kind I should have had years ago."

"I'll help you find a good therapist. We'll get you through this. I promise."

Dean nods, still looking at the floor. "Did you mean what you said the other day? About selling your loft and moving in with me?"

"Of course I did. The loft is already on the market."

"What about your show? And the restaurant?"

"Thank Gabe for pointing out that I don't need to be in New York for the show. We film a whole season in four weeks and I can stay with Gabe while I'm doing that. As for the restaurant, it's my intention to make Gabe a full partner. He's already running the place, he doesn't need me around. I'll make him a partner, then I can keep my name on the place, but it will, for all intents and purposes, be Gabe's restaurant. His whole life is in New York. Mine is in Lawrence."

Dean smiles slightly, and Castiel sits next to him on the end of the bed, wrapping an arm around Dean's shoulder.

"What do you say we get out of here? Grab Sam and go ride the rides at the pier, find an In-N-Out and go Animal, walk on the beach? Hell, we can go tour Hollywood if that's what you want."

"Why do you even still want to be with me? Now that you know what I am?"

Castiel's heart sinks. He'd thought Dean was moving past this. "What do I have to do to prove to you how much I love you? I don't think any less of you, if anything, I think more of you. You are the strongest man I have ever met. You've been through hell and back, and you're still standing. You are the center of your whole family's world, and if you don't believe me, just wait. You've never seen a group of people motivate on behalf of someone else like your family did for you this week."

Dean opens his mouth, likely to disagree, but Castiel cuts him off.

"We've had Ash and Charlie working the computers, tracking your credit cards. Ellen and Jo keeping everyone fed. Bobby taking care of the insurance investigators at the shop. Adam making sure Ben got where he needed to go. Benny calling old friends to see if you'd checked in. Sam basically footing the bill for everything. Everyone's focus has been on you and your welfare. It's time for to stop thinking you aren't worth it and stop and realize how much this family loves you. It's time for you to see how much _I _love you."

A tear rolls down Dean's cheek, and he sniffles.

"You are worth all of that, and so much more. And I will do everything in my power to make you see that. I love you, Dean. I love you with every cell in my body. I love you with every thought in my head. I love you. And I will keep telling you that over and over again until you believe it, and then I'll tell you some more. I love you. You're mine, and I am not going anywhere. Do you understand me?"

Dean nods shakily, another tear leaving a trail down his cheek. Castiel reaches out and thumbs it away.

"Let's go out. Let's get some sun, and try to have a little fun, ok?"

He nods, and it's good enough for Castiel.

* * *

They spend the day wandering Santa Monica, and it's wonderful. Sam and Cas make it a point to keep him between them at all times, and he's so touched by their concern, he can't find it in him to be annoyed.

Back in the room, they have dinner together, and play a few rounds of poker, then Sam mentions some crap about jet-lag and disappears to his room. Dean smiles, he knows Sam is giving them time alone, and he appreciates it.

It's not too much longer, and Cas is pulling him into their room and shutting the door. He strips Dean's clothes away, laying soft kisses along his collarbone and neck, whispers sweet words in Dean's ear.

"Is this ok? We don't have to do this if you don't want to."

"I want to. I need you, Cas. Please."

Cas smiles at him, and leads him to the bathroom. He lights candles and runs a bath in the deep Jacuzzi tub. He gets in first, holds a hand out to Dean, and they settle into the tub, his back against Cas's chest, and for the first time in days, Dean is finally starting to feel a bit of peace.

There are hands tracing patterns down his arms, fingertips drawing softly across his hips, a warm mouth gently nibbling his ear. Dean's melting into Cas's arms, a delicious feeling of arousal pooling in his belly. It feels like it's been forever, and he doesn't protest when Cas moves them from the tub to the bed.

They curl together, chest to chest, hands and legs everywhere, mouths melding together, kisses slow and deep and easy. There's no rush, no frantic exploration of hands. There's healing in Cas's kisses, healing sweeping over him in the form of slender fingers.

Dean could do this all night.

Cas pushes him onto his back, propping himself up on straight arms. He leans in for a kiss, lips first, then Dean's neck. He trails his tongue down Dean's chest, stopping to pull a nipple into his mouth. His tongue swirls over the hard nub, and he bites down lightly, Dean's back arching off the bed.

"Oh god, Cas, fuck."

The other man chuckles as he continues his downward path, leaving little kisses and bites in his wake. Dean's going crazy already, he's so turned on, and by the time that hot mouth finds his rock hard cock, Dean's about to explode. His hand snakes into Cas's hair automatically.

"Oh fuck, oh yes, oh god, Cas, Cas, fuck, fuck!"

Cas chuckles around him, tongue swiping through the slit, his hand snaking up to caress Dean's balls, his other hand finding Dean's and wrapping their fingers together as he swallows Dean whole.

"Oh god, I'm not gonna fuckin' last, Cas, I'm not gonna, I'm gonna come, I'm gonna come, oh fucccccccckkkk!" Dean yells, his cock giving a hard twitch, and he's coming, Cas still deep-throating him through the aftershocks.

He climbs back up the bed then, kisses Dean, and it shouldn't be that hot that he can taste himself in Cas's mouth, but it is.

"That was embarrassingly quick," he grumbles.

"It's ok," Cas murmurs, "we have all night. We have all damn night, and I am going to make you feel so damn good." He kisses Dean again. "I love you baby."

"I love you too, Cas. I love you so much."

And it's not perfect. And he still hurts. But it's going to get better, so much better. It doesn't matter that they're not in Lawrence, it doesn't matter that they're in California. Dean's home. He's known it for a while, and he's thought it before, but it never mattered more than it does now. This is home.

Because home will always be Castiel Novak's arms.


	25. This is the Springtime of My Loving

_Lawrence, Kansas: Ten Months later._

It was one of those gorgeous Kansas spring days that the newscasters would declare perfect and lovely, and bemoan the fact that they didn't get this kind of weather all year long. The sun was shining, there was a fragrant breeze rustling the prairie grasses, and Dean Winchester was smiling big enough to split his face.

He swiped at a nonexistent spot on the black fender with a shop rag, grinning at his own reflection in the glossy paint.

This had been a long time coming.

First, he'd had to rebuild Winchester and Sons from the ground up. It had taken months, four to be exact, and Dean had been very afraid there wouldn't be any business to be had when he finally reopened.

He'd been happily proven wrong.

Business was booming.

Dean employed a staff of thirty now. Benny was still the shop foreman, but he now had an assistant of his own. Jo had her own secretary. Madison was in charge of the crew of mechanics. Garth oversaw the paint and body work guys. Ash still ran the website, but it was interactive now, and he also managed the merchandise end of things, doing all the graphic design for the t-shirts they couldn't seem to keep in stock. They'd also hired an upholsterer and did all their interior work in house now. There was a waiting list of over six months to get a car done, and people were more than willing to wait.

They had their own brand of wheels, with an amazing _W&S_ logo in the center cap, and they'd just been featured in Hot Rodder Magazine. Chip Foose had filmed an episode of _Overhaulin'_ at the shop, and that had brought another rush of business for Dean, and even more attention.

Balthazar had even convinced a fellow producer at the Discovery Channel to come meet Dean, and the man had been so impressed with the shop, and so amused at the way Dean and his crew acted around each other, that there was now a reality show in the works.

Dean was about to become an extremely rich man.

Add in celebrity clients like Michael Symon and Guy Fieri and life was looking good.

"Lookin' mighty fine there brotha," Benny drawled, coming to stand next to Dean. "Like she just rolled off the showroom floor."

And on to Dean's pet project.

It had been a long hard road, driving around the country with Cas at his side, rooting through salvage yards, hunting down parts and panels, and it had been extremely frustrating. He was never sure he would be able to do it, that maybe she was too far gone.

But slowly, all the pieces were obtained, the frame restored, and progress was made.

She was almost done when Dean had a personal setback and took a crowbar to her trunk lid, but Benny made some phone calls and found another one.

Yesterday, Dean and Garth had put the final clear coat on her, and she'd just been washed and waxed.

The sun danced along the lines and curves of her body and Dean felt like he was flying. She was back. His baby was back.

"Whatta waitin' for boss? Fire her up!" Ash grinned at Dean. His whole crew was standing in front of the shop, waiting to hear the Impala roar again.

Dean slid into the driver's seat with a huge grin and turned the key, and she roared to life instantly, throaty growl and ferocious rumble vibrating through the frame.

Jo leaned in through the driver's side window and handed Dean a cassette tape. "Ceremonial first song. Pop in side A and crank it!" She kissed him on the cheek as she pulled her head back out of the car.

Sliding the tape into the deck, a cheer went up from the crowd as the opening strains of _Ramble On_ filled the car and the parking lot.

"That's what I'm talking about!" Dean yelled, as he revved the engine, the 327 responding with a mighty roar.

"Get on outta heah!" Benny hollered, and Dean slid the shifter into drive.

He left about three feet of rubber on the parking lot.

* * *

Castiel hauled the laundry basket up the stairs, smiling and whistling as he went.

He set the basket on the bed, put away his and Dean's laundry, then stripped the sheets, replacing them with the freshly laundered ones. He was using the 500-thread count Egyptian cotton set he'd bought them on his last trip to New York. They were pure white, soft and satiny, and Dean's absolute favorites.

After the bed was made, Castiel scrubbed their bathroom, and set out unlit candles all over the bedroom and bathroom.

It was a very special day, and he was going to turn it into a very special night.

Downstairs, he ran the vacuum and loaded the dishwasher, wiped the counters down, and pulled out the pans he would need for dinner.

It had been just about ten months since he moved in with Dean, and there was nothing he missed about his old loft. Dean's house was warmer and more comfortable than the loft had ever been. And, since the network had agreed, he didn't even need to fly to New York to film the show anymore. They'd just wrapped the first season recorded in Dean's home, and Castiel was hoping the public response would be positive because he liked filming here better than he'd ever liked the studio.

Moving back into the den, he quickly dusted all the furniture, smiling at the pictures lining the mantle. His favorite was the one of him and Dean in tuxes that had been taken almost a year ago in May at the Napa Food and Wine fest. They were both smiling, and that was the night Dean told Castiel he loved him. The picture next to it had been taken the day Castiel had officially moved in, they were standing on the front porch surrounded by boxes, and it had been about two weeks after Dean's impromptu Route 66 trip. Although most people wouldn't notice, Castiel could still see the pain in Dean's eyes.

They'd come so far since then.

After they'd found Dean in California, Sam and Castiel had brought him back, and found him a therapist, but it wasn't a quick cure, and there'd still been the debilitating nightmares, and Dean had struggled with the guilt and self-loathing, leading him to offer Castiel an out more than once, telling him that he didn't have to stay and that he'd understand if he didn't.

Things started to improve as construction progressed on Winchester and Sons. Then, once Dean realized he would indeed be able to restore the Impala, that the frame was still solid and that a few of the body panels had survived the heat, Dean's mental health took a definite upswing. He was smiling more, laughing a bit easier, and Castiel had watched him come back to himself. By January, and Dean's birthday, they were more in love than ever, and the loft finally sold, Castiel's place firmly cemented in Lawrence. It wasn't long after that and Castiel was looking for a place in Lawrence to open a new restaurant, a down home joint this time.

He wanted to prove to Dean beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was here to stay.

A familiar throaty growl sounded from the driveway and Castiel grinned. It had been a while since he'd heard that particular sound, but he knew what it was right away and quickly ran out to the porch.

Dean grinned at him from the driver's side of the Impala, face bright and happy and incredibly pleased.

"Want a ride, gorgeous?" he asked Castiel happily, green eyes sparkling in the late afternoon sun. Castiel returned the grin, and pulled the front door shut behind him.

"Let's go baby!" he smiled, dropping into the passenger seat, laughing loudly as Dean peeled rubber down the street.

* * *

Back at the house, Dean stood in his office, carefully sorting through the papers Sam had brought him earlier in the day.

This was a big step for him, and he was nervous about what he was getting ready to do. Dean wanted to spend the rest of his life with Cas, and this was the first step. He took a minute to ground himself, thinking about everything they'd been through in the past several months, all the therapy sessions, the nightmares, the times Dean would just completely fall apart. Cas was always there, always ready to comfort him, always providing the steady rock Dean needed. It hadn't been easy, not by any stretch of the imagination. Twice weekly therapy sessions had definitely helped, but Cas's love and gentle guidance had been the deciding factor, the piece of the puzzle that made Dean want to work harder to get well.

Hopefully, the papers in his hand would show Cas just how grateful Dean was.

He took a deep breath, then joined Cas in the kitchen. The other man was whistling, slicing strawberries into a bowl. Dean walked up behind him and kissed his neck.

"Got a minute?"

"Sure," Cas grinned and let Dean lead him to the kitchen table.

"I have some stuff I have to show you. Important stuff."

Cas sat at the table as Dean cleared his throat and pulled the first document from the pile.

"So um. I should have done this sooner, especially this one, but better late than never right?" He hands the document to Cas, "this is the deed for the house. It's got your name on it now too. So you own half the house." He grabs the next one, nervous and anxious to get through them all. "This one is the deed for the land and the building at Winchester and Sons. So you own half of that too. And this one gives you a portion of the business, along with me, Benny, and Jo. So you own part of Winchester and Sons now too."

Castiel looks through the papers and smiles. "This is amazing Dean."

"There's one more. This is the one I'm really happy about." He slides the last document across the table. It's a Kansas Department of Motor Vehicles title.

"Is this…is this for the Impala?" Cas asks quietly.

"Yup. Baby's half yours now too. Basically, everything I own is half yours."

Cas is quiet a moment longer, staring at the documents in his hands, then he looks up at Dean, his handsome face lit by a beautiful smile. "This is one hell of a commitment Winchester," he says huskily.

"You're worth it," Dean replies simply.

A moment later, he's got a lap full of handsome man kissing every inch of his face, whispering _I love you_ into his ear.

* * *

When they finally come up for air, Castiel pulls Dean up from the table and drags him back into the kitchen.

"Help me cook?" he asks, and Dean nods happily, freckled cheeks dusted with a light blush.

His green eyes sweep the counter, taking in the ingredients Castiel's set out, recognition dawning as he spies the filets and the small pile of garlic on a cutting board.

"Is this?"

"Yup. It's our anniversary after all, I thought we should make the dishes that started it all." He nods in the direction of the garlic. "Want a mincing lesson for old times sake?" Castiel asks with a smirk.

"Oh, hell yeah."

An hour later, they're sitting as close together as possible at the kitchen table, feeding each other off of one plate, things getting decidedly hotter with each bite, lips meeting often between bits of steak and risotto, an entire bottle of wine gone, and another on the way.

Dean finally gets off of his own chair and plops himself into Castiel's lap, the chair groaning loudly in protest.

"We should go upstairs," he growls in Castiel's ear.

"Mmm. I like that idea. But I have something else planned for you tonight."

"Oh yeah? What?"

"The episode we filmed one year ago today. Ash helped me set up a screen out back, and we're going to cuddle up and watch it, then we can go to bed. I made dessert after all."

"Same stuff as last year? The zabaglione?"

"Yes."

"Yummy."

"Go outside, I'll be out in a moment."

"Ok." Dean pulls himself off of Castiel's lap, smiling back at him as he heads through the kitchen and the den, disappearing through the back door.

Castiel waits, standing just out of Dean's line of sight at the den window. He watches as Dean takes in the backyard. He's gone all out, ordered a new chaise lounge for tonight, a big one that's about the size of a queen size bed. There's about sixteen pillows piled on it, and some Indian-print throw blankets. Jo helped him put fairy lights and white Chinese lanterns in the trees, and there's a bottle of champagne chilling in a stand. A white sheet strung between two trees makes the stand-in movie screen.

Dean is looking around, surprised at the opulence, and looks like he's about to come back into the house, so Castiel uses the remote for the video player and presses play.

He's got about five minutes to change.

* * *

This isn't his backyard.

It's like something out of a Martha Stewart ad, twinkly lights and candles, champagne chilling, and a brand spanking new piece of furniture that looks like an outdoor bed. There's a sheet hanging between two of the trees, and Dean's about to head back in and ask Cas what's going on when the video starts.

"_Hello, I'm Castiel Novak, chef and host of Food Network's A Little Taste of Heaven. We're coming to you today from the Lawrence, Kansas home of Dean Winchester."_

Dean smiles as he sits on the chaise, admiring the handsome man on the screen as he walks across the front lawn in his crisp white shirt and sexy mussed hair, remembering that day fondly. Who knew it would turn out like this?

"_Dean won a contest to have me come to his home and cook a romantic meal for two. Dean was supposed to have a date come over but he didn't, so he asked me to stay."_

The hell? He didn't remember this part from when he'd first seen this episode.

"_I can't tell you how glad I am that he didn't have a date. We spent the evening talking, then made love for the first time."_

Dean's eyes widened. Ok, that was definitely _not _on the original episode.

"_Over the next few weeks, we got to know each other better, both in New York and Kansas. It didn't take long for me to realize I was in love with Dean. I think I may have actually fallen in love at first sight. That's never happened to me before."_

Dean's hand slipped over his mouth.

"_I took him to Napa, and we had a wonderful time. We danced together, then went back to our room and made love. Dean told me he loved me that night. I didn't think I could feel any happier. Then I almost lost him, I said something stupid and he ran. I was so scared it was over."_

His vision blurred, tears filling his eyes.

"_I apologized, and he accepted, but other things in his life sent him into a very dark period. I did everything I could to convince him I loved him, and between me and his family, Dean learned to forgive himself for things in his past that he couldn't change. Over the last few months, I've watched him heal, and grow, and through it all, I've fallen more and more in love with him."_

Cas on screen smiled, blue eyes twinkling.

"_I will love him for the rest of my life. And I'm hoping that by the end of this episode, Dean will have agreed to marry me."_

Dean gasped, staring at the screen as tears ran down his cheeks. There was a noise beside him in the grass, and he turned to see Cas standing there, gorgeous in his tux. His jaw dropped, and Dean stood, eyes wide, as Cas moved closer and dropped on one knee.

"Oh my god," Dean whispered, as Cas reached up and took his hand. He can't stop the tears that are falling faster now, but he's not sad, not at all, he's so damn happy he's sure his heart is about to explode.

"Dean, I love you, I love you more than I can even put into words, and there's nothing in this world that would make me happier than marrying you. So what do you say? Will you be my husband?"

He sniffles loudly, and Cas chuckles. "Yeah, Cas, I'll marry you. Of course I'll marry you."

The other man grins, and slips a thin silver band on Dean's left hand. "I was hoping you'd say that." He gets to his feet and pulls Dean in for a heated kiss.

"What else would I say?" Dean asks with a grin. "The answer was pretty obvious to me."

"Good," Cas says, kissing him again. "I love you, Dean."

"I love you too, Cas, I love you so much."

* * *

They spend the evening curled together on the big chaise in the backyard. They eat dessert, drink champagne, and watch the actual episode, and Dean laughs at how awkward he looks, both of them amused at the obvious sexual tension.

It's blissful in the backyard, the April night cool, but they're warm and snuggled together under the pretty throw blankets.

"So, you're about to become a very rich man, my love. What are you going to do with all that money?" Castiel asks, as he runs his fingers across Dean's cheek. They've long since shut the video player off, and it's dark, the yard lit only by the fairy lights and lanterns, and the tiny candles that are slowly burning themselves out.

"I don't need or want it," Dean replies, "but I'll put a good chunk of it in trust for Ben. I think I'd like to put the rest of it into veteran's programs, like Wounded Warrior."

"That's my man. Always putting others first."

Dean blushes. "I make enough from the shop. I don't need the money."

"I know, baby. I think what you want to do is amazing." Castiel kisses the tip of his nose. "I'm going to make you so happy, Dean."

"You already do, Cas. I love you so much."

He kisses Dean then, soft at first, just a light press of lips, but Dean responds passionately, yanking Castiel's head closer with a hand behind his neck, tongue demanding entrance, and they're both being swept away.

"We should take this upstairs," Castiel groans, as Dean attacks his neck, his hand wandering down to the fly of the tuxedo pants.

"Why? We have a privacy fence and an asston of trees. You bought us this awesome new outdoor bed. I say we break it in."

Castiel chuckles, and gives in, his hands sweeping up Dean's back, yanking hard on his lover's t-shirt, and Dean helps him pull it off.

It takes a little longer to get him out of the tux, and then he happily pulls Dean's jeans off, and they're naked, pressed against each other under the warmth of the throw blankets, Castiel admiring the play of candle and fairy light on the planes of Dean's gorgeous face. His eyes are just a thin band of grass green now, pupils completely lust-blown.

"I want you," Castiel growls, pulling Dean in for a kiss, feeling Dean push his erection into his hip, "I want you on your back screaming my name."

"Fuck that's hot," Dean moans.

"That's the idea." Castiel ducks his head under the blanket, enjoying the hard squirm Dean does when his lips find his nipple. Castiel has learned, in the past year, that he can make Dean fall apart just by playing with his nipples, which are extremely sensitive, far more sensitive than any man he's ever been with.

He sucks the nub into his mouth, swirling his tongue around as Dean groans above him, squirming and arching his back, amazing little sounds tumbling from his mouth. Castiel bites down, increasing his suction, and Dean grabs his shoulders, fingers tightening, and that might be the part Castiel loves the most.

Trailing his tongue across Dean's chest, he finds the other nipple, and sucks that one in, repeating the process. Dean's starting to sweat now, his body trembling with pleasure, and Castiel smiles to himself, reaching under a pillow for the bottle of lube he stashed there earlier, just in case.

He continues his path down Dean's torso, nipping and kissing, bypassing the other man's rock hard interest, gently spreading Dean's legs as he goes. He trails his tongue along his inner thighs, distracting Dean while he lubes his fingers.

There's an excitement to their lovemaking, the first time they've ever done this in the backyard, out in the open, (because there was that time in the Impala after all) there's almost an illicitness to it, and it's fueling Castiel's libido, knowing that Dean is staring at an inky sky full of stars while he's busy in between his legs.

He takes Dean in his mouth, hears the other man gasp, whisper his name into the night air, and Castiel slides a lubed finger inside him.

"Ohfuckohfuckohfuck," Dean murmurs. "Feels so good," and his hand finds Castiel's hair.

One of the thousand and one things he loves about Dean is that sex never seems to get old for him. Dean gets just as excited as he did the first time, and it's very alluring, it makes Castiel feel so powerful that he can take Dean apart like this.

It's not long before he's sliding back up the bed, taking in Dean's wrecked face as he slides in, Dean arching helplessly into his chest, hanging on for dear life as Castiel thrusts in and out, clinging tightly as he says his name over and over, hands joined, frantic kisses exchanged, and it seem like only a moment before they both tumble over the edge, Dean with a shout, Castiel with a growl, and they collapse into each other, waiting out their racing hearts.

Dean snuggles into him, as they both lay on their backs watching the stars.

"I love you," Castiel whispers into his sweaty hair.

"I love you, too," Dean whispers back, tightening his grip around Castiel's waist, twisting his body to hide his face in his shoulder.

They fall asleep this way, happy, in love, and content, wrapped around each other in the cool April night.


	26. Hold Me Close and Hold Me Fast

_And here we are, at the end of the road. I can't thank you all enough for sticking with me, and this story. I'm so grateful for all the reviews. I am sorry I didn't get to you all personally, but real life happened._

_Anyway, I'm taking a month long break now to move, but I will be back with a set of 30 time stamps from this 'verse._

_I chose Sept 18th for their wedding, since that's the day Cas pulled Dean out of hell, and oddly enough, in 2014 it's a Thursday! Weird, huh? Also, I know marriage equality hasn't hit Kansas yet, but I am forever hopeful. Call it creative license._

_So here we are, the final chapter. Thanks again, and I hope you enjoy!_

* * *

_September 18, 2014_

Dean fussed with his tie for the eight hundredth time, scowling at himself in the mirror. Finally, he yanked it off and tossed it across the bathroom.

"I'm not wearing the fucking tie!" he declared loudly, and Sam grinned at him from where he stood in the doorway.

"So don't wear the tie. I doubt anyone cares."

Checking his appearance in the mirror again, Dean sighed. "Who the hell picks out a tan linen suit? I look like a fucking Triscuit!"

"Dude. Calm down. You picked out that suit and you look great in it. You're just nervous." Sam picked up the offending piece of green silk and crossed the room towards his brother. "Let me help you with the tie."

"I don't want to wear the tie," Dean sulked.

"Yes you do. Cas picked it out, and I know you want to wear it. Come here."

Dean stood still and let Sam put the tie on him, then turned and looked in the mirror again. He let out a sigh, his shoulders finally relaxing. "That looks good. Thanks, Sammy." He shuffled his feet, examining his appearance in the mirror for the umpteenth time. "You sure I look ok?"

Sam clapped his big hand on Dean's shoulder and smiled at his brother in the mirror. "You look great. You look like a man about to get married."

"I'm getting married," Dean murmured to his own reflection, eyes wide. "I can't believe it."

"Believe it bro," Sam called as he made his way into Dean's kitchen. A second later, Dean heard the pop of a cork, and then Sam was back, pressing a champagne flute into his hand. "And it's about damn time." He raised his glass. "To you and Cas, and a long happy life."

Dean smiled and tapped his glass against Sam's. "Thanks baby bro."

Ellen appeared around the corner, brown hair styled into a soft bun. "Are you ready, sweetie? It's just about time."

Feeling his cheeks flush, Dean nodded. "Yeah. I think so."

"Better head out there then," Sam smiled, leaning over to give Dean a hug. "It's going to be fine. It's going to be great. Don't forget to put your jacket on, and don't forget that I have the rings and don't go nuts looking for them or something," he called, as he headed out the sliding glass door into the back yard.

Ellen found his jacket over the back of the couch. "Come here, baby," she said, holding the jacket out. Dean slid into it and stood still as Ellen fixed his collar and adjusted the spray of tiny roses on his lapel. "Oh, look at you. You look wonderful." She gave him a watery smile. Dean glared at her.

"Don't you start crying or I'll be done. I cry more than any man I know," he added grumpily.

"You say that like it's a bad thing." She stood on her tip toes to kiss his cheek. "Real men have no trouble expressing emotion. It's just more proof of how extraordinary you are."

Dean rolled his eyes, and Ellen slapped his arm. "Don't back sass me boy!"

"I didn't say anything!" She smiled at him again, and adjusted his tie and jacket one last time. Dean swept his eyes over her, taking in the carefully made up face and soft pink dress. "Hey, if nothing else, I got you in a dress for the day."

"Boy, I can still kick your ass, don't you forget that now."

"Are we ready in here?" Bobby asked, sticking his head in the door, his head looking naked without his trucker cap.

Dean nodded, feeling a rush of butterflies dance in his stomach.

"Then let's do this kid. Let's get you married off."

Ellen offers her arm and Dean takes it. Bobby takes the other as he steps out onto the deck.

His backyard is lined with rows of white wooden chairs, his and Cas's friends and family filling them all. Sam and Gabriel stand at the top, next to Tessa, the officiate, Sam on the right, Gabe on the left.

Bobby nudges him slightly, and the three of them walk down the steps and up the aisle formed by the chairs. There are flowers everywhere, soft classical music playing, a photographer is snapping pictures, and everyone is smiling at him as Bobby and Ellen escort him to the front.

Ellen kisses him, Bobby hugs him, then they take their seats.

This is it.

It's time to get married.

* * *

"Are you ready?" Anna asks him, reaching up again to straighten his cobalt silk tie.

Castiel swallows audibly, then smiles down at his sister. "I've been ready. Let's do this."

She grins, links their arms, and they walk out of Jo's backyard and into Castiel and Dean's. The way is lined with flowers, and he blinks in the light of a photographer's flash. He looks back down at Anna, glorious in her emerald green dress, red hair tumbling over her creamy shoulders, brown eyes full of love, and his heart swells. "I'm getting married," he whispers happily, and she grins.

"Not unless we actually get you to the front. Come on, Dean's waiting for you."

Dean.

And there he is, smiling at him from the front, Sam grinning behind him. He's wearing a khaki colored linen suit, a white shirt, and the green silk tie that Castiel bought him for Christmas, for the sole reason that it matched his eyes.

Which is the same reason Dean sited when he gave Castiel the blue one he's currently wearing, and Castiel is pleased when Dean notices and smiles.

Their friends and family smile happily at him as he passes on Anna's arm. There's Bobby and Stephanie, Guy and Lori, Mike and Liz, Ted and Barry, Giada and Todd, Kali with her own huge diamond sparkler, Michael and the girls, Benny and Andrea and their girls, Jess, eight month old Mari on her lap, wrapped in a poofy pink dress, giggling and smiling, Rufus, Bobby and Ellen and Jo, Madison and Adam, sitting together and holding hands, when did that happen?, Lisa, Vic, and Ben, Balthazar, Charlie and Gilda, Ash, Garth, and so many others.

And they're all smiling, all of them so happy for him and Dean.

He reaches the front, and Anna leans up and kisses him, then goes to sit with Michael. Castiel smiles at Gabe, who smiles back, then turns to smile at Dean.

Dean is beaming, his face lit up and happy, and he reaches for Castiel's hand.

"You look amazing," he whispers.

"You do too," Castiel whispers back.

Tessa clears her throat, and opens the leather folder she's holding. "Are we ready?"

They both nod.

"Good. Friends and family, we have gathered in this place to bear witness to the joining of two souls. Castiel and Dean have pledged their commitment to each other, mind, soul, and body. Marriage is not a commitment that should be entered into lightly, it should be done with great consideration and care.

"Marriage consists of entrusting our deepest selves into the loving care of another. It is an emotional and spiritual act. The spiritual aspect of marriage should be embraced openly, seriously, and completely, as marriage is a conscious act of will.

"Dean and Castiel stand before you today, ready to pledge themselves to each other for eternity."

Dean smiles at him again, and squeezes his hand.

"Dean and Castiel have chosen to write their own vows. Castiel?"

Clearing his throat, Castiel pulls the folded piece of paper from the pocket of his black suit jacket. This is it. He takes a deep breath, and begins to read.

"Dean. More than a year ago, when we first met, the first thing I really noticed about you was your eyes. At first, it was the color, greener than any I had ever seen. I was transfixed. I've read that eyes are the windows to the soul, and in your case, that's very true. I can tell when you're happy, sad, angry, or turned-on," he says with a wink, and there's a chuckle from the crowd as Dean blushes furiously but keeps smiling, "just by looking in your eyes. Some wear their hearts on their sleeves, your heart is hidden in the depths of your eyes.

"In this past year and a half, I've seen so many emotions there. Love, joy, pain, sorrow, and untold heartbreak. I want to spend the rest of my life doing my best to keep the love and joy in there, and minimize the sadness and the pain. I love you with every cell of my being, and I'm going to spend the rest of my life proving it.

"So, I commit myself to you, everything I am, and everything I hope to be, yours through any trials that come our way, yours until the end of time. I love you Dean Winchester. I'll love you forever."

Dean sniffles loudly, bites his bottom lip and swipes at the tear rolling down his cheek. Castiel smiles and squeezes his hand. "Love you."

"Love you too," Dean whispers back.

"Dean? It's your turn," Tessa tells them pleasantly.

* * *

Oh boy this is it. Shit. He's not ready. He's so not ready for this.

Dean takes a deep breath and studies Cas for a second. He looks amazing in his perfectly cut black suit, crisp white shirt, and the bright blue tie Dean bought him. It was funny, they'd both bought each other ties for Christmas, claiming they matched the other's eyes, and they both chose to wear them today, the most important day of their lives.

His hands are shaking, but Cas squeezes again, and he feels himself start to calm down. He can do this.

"So, um, I tried to write something down, but I'm not good at that kind of thing, so I thought I'd just, I'd just say what I was thinking, if that's ok?" He looks to Tessa for confirmation, and she smiles kindly at him. "Ok. Ok." _Deep breath, in, out, let's do this Winchester._ "Cas, I'd um, I'd given up on the love thing, you know? I'd gotten to the point where I had accepted that it wasn't going to happen for me. And I wasn't happy about it, but I was ok. And then you walked in.

"Arrogant and obnoxious, trying to buy my car and all I could think was, who does this jerk think he is? But then I found out. You weren't a jerk at all. You were amazing, and wonderful, and I think, hell, I think I've been waiting for you my whole life. Maybe that's the reason none of the other relationships worked out. I was waiting for you."

Dean blinks, aware of the tears that are snaking down his face, but he doesn't care.

"You've put up with so much from me. So much stupid shi…stuff, and every time I thought you were going to leave, you didn't. You stayed. You held my hand when I was falling apart. You took me through one of the worst times of my life. You've been my rock, my anchor, my everything. I love you, Cas. I love you more than I can even begin to put into words.

"I thank whoever's looking out for me every day for sending you to me. Every friggin' day. Because I don't know…I don't…" Dean's words falter, and he stares down at the ground, trying to compose his thoughts into something useful.

Cas reaches out and takes his other hand, and pulls both of his hands to his mouth and kisses them.

"I love you, Dean," he murmurs softly, and Dean looks up, finding all the love Cas has for him sparkling back through bright blue eyes. It grounds him, and he smiles, his heart pounding.

"I love you, too, Cas. And I swear I'll never stop. Never."

Cas reaches out and thumbs the tears off of Dean's cheeks. They stare at each other a moment, then Tessa turns to Sam. "Do you have the rings?"

Sam hands the bands to her, and she sets them on her folder.

"Dean and Castiel have chosen to exchange rings as a sign of their commitment. The ring symbolizes the infinite love they have for each other." She hands one band to Dean. "Place this on Castiel's finger and repeat these words. With this ring, I pledge my love, commitment and fidelity."

Dean curses his shaking hands as he takes the platinum band and slides it onto Cas's finger, but his voice is steady and clear, "with this ring, I pledge my love, commitment and fidelity."

Cas beams brilliantly at him, as he takes the other ring, and slides it onto Dean's hand, bringing it to rest against the thin engagement ring. His voice is also clear and steady as he intones, "with this ring, I pledge my love, commitment and fidelity."

"And by the power vested in me by the state of Kansas, and in the witness of your family and friends, it is my joy and my honor to pronounce you husbands. You may seal your commitment with a kiss."

If Dean grins any wider, he's pretty damn sure his face is going to split. Cas looks to be in the same predicament, so what's a guy to do? Hooking a hand around Cas's neck, Dean pulls him in for their first ever _married_ kiss, sweet and deep and long, and there's cheers, applause, and catcalls from the crowd surrounding them.

They're laughing when they separate, and Tessa claps them both on the shoulders.

"It's my pleasure to introduce to you, for the first time anywhere, Mr. and Mr. Winchester!"

And that had been a surprise, Cas announcing last week that he would be taking Dean's last name, and a rush of pride fills him, as Cas takes his arm and leads him down the aisle.

Without a doubt, this is the best day of his life.

* * *

The Pearly Gates BBQ wasn't open for business yet, wouldn't be for another three weeks, mainly because the owners would be off on their honeymoon, but it was a perfect space to use for a wedding reception.

The building had many things to recommend it, large skylights in the roof, exposed brick walls, and a prime time spot directly across from a well-known classic car restoration joint.

Castiel had been thrilled when the building across from Winchester and Sons went up for sale. It was exactly what he was looking for, and he purchased it immediately with the money Gabe had given him to buy out his portion of the steakhouse. Blue Heaven was Gabe's completely now, and Castiel was glad. It would give him fewer reasons to go to New York and more time at home with his new husband.

The same new husband who was currently sitting at a table, smiling at Sam, who's just about to give his toast as Dean's best man.

The room grows quiet, and Dean snakes his hand under the tablecloth and finds Castiel's, squeezing it firmly.

"So, I wrote something down, and it was funny, and poked a little fun at my big brother over there, but I just read it again and decided not to use it." Sam clears his throat and tightens his grip on the champagne flute in his hand. He's nervous, Castiel realizes, and it's not an emotion he normally associates with the unflappable Sam Winchester, but it's there just the same. This moment means a lot to him, he can tell.

"Dean, I've always been proud to have you as my brother. You were always the coolest guy in school, with the awesome car and the leather jacket, but more importantly, you were my big brother. You've done so much for me over the years, I don't even know how I could ever begin to repay you. You're always the strong one, the center of this family, you make sure everyone around you is loved and taken care of, and you never ask for anything for yourself. You never let anyone know if you need something. You're the most, the most," Sam's voice falters, and Castiel can see the tears forming in his eyes, and he doesn't have to look to know that Dean's tearing up too.

"All I ever wanted was for someone to come along and take care of you the way you take care of us. And Cas does that. So thank you Cas, for loving my brother, and making him happy. I love you guys." He sniffles, then raises his glass. "To Dean and Cas, my brothers. To a happy life together."

"Hear, hear," Bobby seconds, and the crowd raises their glasses.

Dean stands and hugs Sam. "Love you lil bro," Castiel hears him say, and Sam nods, eyes still filed with tears, as he goes to sit with Jess.

"So, I don't know if it's tradition or not, but I have something to say as well." Dean smiles at Castiel. "I love you. I'm grateful every day that you came into my life. You saved me in ways you can't even imagine. I'm looking forward to spending the rest of my life with you. So here's to us." He raises his glass, and tilts it towards Castiel. "Here's to you. I love you, Cas." He smiles, and Castiel smiles back.

"Kiss him!" someone yells, and Dean laughs. He pulls Castiel to his feet, and presses their lips together, the crowd around them cheering.

So this is what it feels like to float.

The music starts then, _La Vie en Rose_, and Dean smiles. "Our first dance?" he asks, and Castiel nods happily, taking his hand and leading him out to the dance floor. Dean wraps his arm around his waist and pulls him close.

"Dude, we're married," he whispers in Castiel ear.

"Yup. We are indeed."

"I'm so happy. I feel like such a girl, but I'm so damn happy." Dean lays his head on Castiel's shoulder.

"And we're going to stay happy. Because we love each other, and there's nothing we can't survive, nothing we can't work out. I will love you until the end of time, Dean. Always and forever."

"Back at you baby. Forever."

* * *

_Hale'iwa, O'ahu, Hawai'i_

Dean stood at the edge of the water, watching the gorgeous blue wash over his feet. The sun was setting far out on the horizon, and he could still see a few random surfers out on the beach.

The house they were staying in was gorgeous, two stories, open floor plan, large backyard, palm trees all around, and through a gate was the beach. It was beautiful here, and the perfect place to spend a honeymoon. Dean smiled as he looked at the rings on his left hand. _Holy hell, I'm a married man_, he thought, smile turning into a big grin.

"What are you grinning about?" Cas asked, walking out onto the beach and handing him a Mai Tai.

Dean held up his left hand. "Dude, I'm married. I'm friggin' married."

Cas held up his hand. "Me too," he replied with a smile. He stepped closer and wrapped his arm around Dean's waist. "I love you," he murmured, leaning up to kiss him.

"I love you, too."

They stood there for a while, warm ocean water washing over their feet, watching the sun go down, arms around each other while they sipped their drinks.

"There's a hammock with our names on it," Cas said, "would be a shame to let it go to waste."

A moment later, they're settled in, the hammock swaying gently with their movements. It's big enough that they can lie side by side, although Dean is on his side, face buried in Cas's shoulder, arm around his waist and their legs tangled together. It's his favorite place to be, has been since they met. Their hands are intertwined, and Cas keeps leaving little kisses on his forehead.

"You know," Cas whispers, "I haven't given you your wedding present yet. And since the one you gave me was so amazing…" Dean smiles, pleased that Cas loved the fire engine red '69 Corvette Stingray he'd built him, "…I knew mine would have to be good, too. Luckily, I bought yours months ago."

Cas squirms slightly, digging in the pocket of his khaki shorts, the movement causing the Stones tee he keeps stealing from Dean to ride up his belly, and Dean can't resist, leaning over to pepper Cas's abs with kisses.

"Here you go," Cas tosses a set of keys at him, with a tiny surfboard keychain attached. Dean picks them up and stares at them quizzically.

"What are these for?"

Cas grins. "This house."

"This house? The one we're staying in?"

"Yup. I saved the money from selling the loft and the Mercedes and bought us a house in Hawaii."

Dean's speechless. He stares at the keys in his hand, then stares at Cas.

"Really?" he croaks.

"Yup," Cas grins again, "welcome to our second home."

"Holy shit!"

"So you like it then?"

"Like it? I love it!" Dean rolls over on top of Cas, the hammock swaying dangerously. "Just like I love you." He kisses Cas, long and sweet, both of them breathless when he finally pulls away, a smirk on his face.

"Hey, Cas, think we can have sex in a hammock?"

Cas grins, wraps his legs around Dean and flips him onto his back, the hammock swaying even more unsteadily.

"I think we're going to find out," he growls, leaning forward and sinking his tongue into Dean's mouth.

They're breathless again when Cas pulls away, dropping his head to attack Dean's neck, hands wandering down his torso.

Dean sighs happily. "Oh, yeah. Now we're cooking with gas."


End file.
